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mercy-burning · 3 years

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Losing You Twice / 1: If I Hated You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day weekend, and it turns out Y/N isn’t the only one struggling with the breakup. Category: Smut (18+), Angst Content Warnings: Language, drinking/getting drunk, penetrative/unprotected sex (If I missed anything, please let me know!) Word Count: 5,538

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

“My bedtime is the darkest, that’s when I’m brokenhearted. The nighttime is the hardest. It’d be easy, if I hated you.” —FLETCHER, If I Hated You

FEBRUARY 13th

It was Valentine's Day weekend, which sucked this time around. Every year for the past three years Y/N looked forward to Valentine's Day, but that was when she actually had someone to spend it with.

Well, someone she actually cared about, anyway... Whether or not Spencer actually knew it, she did really care about him. She was just stupid and didn't say it when he needed to hear it the most.

And now Valentine's Day was on Saturday and Y/N was still without him. Not alone, but still without the man who'd spent the significant holiday with her for the past three years. Memories of their dates and 'afterparties' flooded through her mind as she got ready for work like a montage, a cheesy love-song playlist she'd found on Spotify acting as the soundtrack.

Eventually she sighed and turned it off, opting for something more loud and obnoxious, and therefore not tainted by Spencer's memory. She applied what was left of her makeup and added a pair of earrings before turning the music off altogether and shoving her phone in her bag alongside her keys and other necessities.

Even though she wasn't emotionally prepared for all the cheesy Valentine's things she'd see and hear and experience throughout the weekend, it was still kind of nice to see that things in the bank never changed during the holidays— Everything in her life was so severely different at the moment, that if Marjorie had somehow decided to throw out all her elaborate decorations for each holiday, no matter how small, Y/N would have thought the world was truly ending.

Speaking of, she was met with Marjorie's brighter-than-the-sun smile almost immediately once she set her things in the breakroom.

"How's my little macaron this morning?" she chirped, Y/N chuckling slightly at the nickname— She brought macarons from the bakery down the street on her first birthday she spent at the bank, and ever since then, the older woman had adorned her with the namesake.

"She's alright, Marj... Better now that she's seen you..."

"That boy still on your mind, hon?"

Obviously Marjorie's intentions were good, but Y/N couldn't stand to think about the situation at all, least of all at work... So, setting her jacket on the rack, turned away so that her coworker wouldn't see the visible discomfort on her face, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and cleared her throat. "So, what are your plans with Geno tomorrow night? Anything special?"

There was a brief pause before Marjorie cleared her throat as well. "Nothing short of our usual dinner plans, my dear. He's been so caught up with work at the Mill lately, I think we're just going to spend the night relaxing."

"Hm," Y/N said shortly, finally turning around and giving her the best smile she could. "Maybe I should take a page from your book and stay in..."

"You weren't going to?"

"No... Britt's been nagging me about getting out there so we're going out tomorrow night. We both haven't been single in a long time, so... Should be fun."

Marjorie didn't look convinced. Either way, she nodded with a smile and walked over to Y/N with something glittery and bright red in her hand— A cheap beaded necklace to clip her nametag onto. She draped it over Y/N's neck and patted her shoulders. "Well, I want you to have fun. And remember that you still have to come to work on Monday. Whatever shenanigans you get into should be reserved for Saturday night only so you can rest properly on Sunday, got it?"

Y/N laughed, thankful for the playful tone in Marjorie's voice. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, I joke, I joke," the older woman said with a bright laugh, turning to walk out of the break room. "A little..."

The smile on Y/N's face only really lasted until after Marjorie was out of sight, then she went into her bag and clipped her nametag onto the red beaded necklace with a sigh.

Was she excited to have a good night out with Britt? Of course. Hell, had it been literally any other day of the year, she would have been practically bouncing off the walls with excitement at the idea of going out to a bar, letting men hit on her until she finally let one of them take her back to his place for the night.

But it just felt like it was too soon.

Either way, she was glad that she'd get to see Britt again, after she'd been on vacation for Christmas and New Year's to see her family and only got back a few weeks ago. She'd seen her on Facetime of course, and they met up once for coffee right after Britt got back from her trip, but a well-needed night out and quality time getting ready together was something that had been missing from their friendship for almost a year.

Y/N knew Britt would most likely spend her time trying to hook them up with end-of-the-night dates, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad...

Even still, sleeping alone the night before was probably one of the worst spells of loneliness she'd ever had. It was normal to be sad spending the first Valentine's Day in years away from a significant other, but knowing how things ended between them—bitter and stained with words left unsaid—this time was just... cold.

And that was putting it lightly.

Y/N laid in bed that night, her eyes wide open and staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars that adorned the ceiling. They used to give her comfort, but now they just reminded her of all the nights she'd spend with Spencer, listening to him tell stories about the constellations. They were some of the most peaceful memories she had.

And now those, too—those stars that had grounded her pretty much all her life and reminded her of the better days—were tainted by her inability to properly communicate.

She almost thought about taking them down.

But if she was really going to get over him this time, for good, then she'd have to learn to make new memories with the stars. Even if it was painful. Even if replacing those memories and writing new ones over them absolutely tore her soul to pieces.

And, as if that pain wasn't enough, that night Y/N dreamt of him, making love to her amongst the stars in every galaxy, only to wake up the next morning cold and alone.

FEBRUARY 14th

She promptly decided that she hated his guts.

It was Valentine's Day, Y/N was respectfully buzzed, and courtesy of two beers and four shots of tequila, she'd just deleted Spencer's number from her phone.

"I'm done," she said, waving a hand at Britt and shoving her phone in her purse. "He doesn't deserve my wallowing."

"Yeah!"

Britt was significantly the more drunk of the two, resulting in a fit of giggles after gaining some stares from the people around them at her sudden outburst.

Y/N smiled, finishing off another shot and shaking her head. "We need more!"

"More shots!" Britt hurried off to grab them, leaving her friend behind with a half-drunken smile that also only felt half-genuine.

Sure, she decided she hated Spencer's guts, but her heart didn't exactly agree well with that sentiment. Even after deleting his number from her phone, after downing all that alcohol, her heart still ached.

Y/N knew deep down that getting over him was going to take some time. A lot of time... But maybe one night of distraction would help.

So the shots kept coming, and by the end of the night, Y/N was just about at her limit.

Which was near black-out drunk. And when you're that drunk you tend to make decisions you wouldn't soberly condone.

Britt got into a cab, and she begged Y/N to come with her, but she assured her friend that she had someone to come pick her up. Eventually the cab driver got tired of their inability to decide, and when Y/N told him to go, he did, leaving her alone on the side of the street at 1am.

Unfortunately, it was incredibly cold, and she didn't really have anyone to come pick her up. And that's where the bad decisions started.

Y/N pulled her phone out, a long sigh escaping her as she dialed the number by heart.

Would he even pick up? He hadn't answered any of her calls or texts before, so why would it have been any different now? Not to mention it was Valentine's Day Weekend. With her luck, he was probably in bed with someone else. Someone who wasn't her. As she listened to the dial tone repeating in her ear, images of him wrapped up with somebody else—sleeping in the bed she'd slept in many times before—clouded her drunken brain and made her more angry than anything.

Her gut twisted, and she almost hung up.

But then the low buzz of the dial tone abruptly stopped and in its place came his voice.

"Y/N?"

Her name on his lips, even through the phone, was grounding, the anger in her system melting away and revealing a coat of drunken relief.

"Spencer! You answered!"

"Yeah... Are you— Is everything okay?"

"Pff, yeah, 'm-fine. Just really fucking cold."

"You're not outside, are you?"

"Duh, I'm outside... I wouldn't be cold in-side... Besides, I didn't call t'alk bout the weather, I need you t'come pick me up."

There was a brief pause, and for a moment Y/N didn't think he was going to say anything she wanted to hear. She swayed on the sidewalk, shivering and praying that he would throw her a bone, even if she'd regret it all in the morning.

"Where are you?" he said finally, and despite herself, she smiled.

FEBRUARY 15th

Spencer couldn't believe he was picking her up at near two in the morning.

Honestly, he'd initially thought about ignoring her call again, but remembering the day it was and taking note of the time, he figured she was most likely in some type of inebriated trouble.

His instincts were right, of course, but he wished that he could have been wrong. He wished she'd only been calling to drunkenly ramble on about how she missed him or maybe how he was stupid and she never wanted to see his face ever again, because that was normal. At least then he could have hung up after she was done and never thought about it again— it was a normal step in any relationship that helped move things along. They could have gotten on with their lives and it would have all been over.

But of course it was never that simple.

Y/N was never that simple.

He pictured her on the street near some bar, alone and cold and drunk, and of course he would have been the only one she could call to rescue her. After all, he'd been pretty much the only thing she'd ever known to make her feel safe.

Still, he wished he was capable of only giving her a ride home and then leaving.

But again, it was never that simple.

It was easy getting her into the car— that wasn't what he was worried about. Rather, it was the fated moment where she'd ask him to stay after he finally got her tucked safely into bed that worried him. Because it was bad enough that it was Y/N... It was her in all her alluring glory, and he'd never been able to deny her anything no matter how badly he tried or wanted to.

Now add on the fact that she was drunk, and most likely sad on their first Valentine's Day apart, and it was a recipe for disaster.

Even if she'd broken his heart, Spencer still cared about her.

Which is why he inevitably agreed to stay, at least until she fell asleep.

He knew her well enough to know all the ways she'd try to get him under the covers with her, so it was a familiar amusement that settled in his being when he was finally able to get on top of the covers with her underneath. But as he entertained her silly little questions with the right answers until she fell asleep, Spencer noticed something else accompanying that amusement.

Guilt.

And then anger for feeling guilty about her sadness— sadness that could have been avoided had she just gotten over whatever was holding her back and either returned his "I love you" or told him she wasn't feeling the same way just yet.

All she had to do was talk.

He had a right to feel upset about Y/N holding back when he'd been nothing but patient, spending almost every year of their relationship trying to make her see that she had nothing to be afraid of. He'd given her every chance to talk about what she was feeling, whether it was happy or not, and every time she pushed it all away in favor of sex.

That wasn't what he wanted in a relationship, so he ended it. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

So why was he feeling so fucking guilty?

He blamed his good nature and innate need to please people, to make them feel good and happy. But he also blamed Y/N and her adorable drunken sleeping face.

He watched as she slept, willing himself not to forget the way she hurt him. She'd completely stolen his heart and shattered it at the same time, and if he was being honest, she still held some of the pieces. But he couldn't get them back, not if he didn't want to risk shattering her own heart in the process.

It felt like they were tied together by some strong, invisible force that wouldn't break unless both of them broke right along with it.

So... maybe he could afford to leave those pieces of his heart with her. He'd have to if they were going to get out of this alive. Not unscathed, sure, but alive nonetheless.

Once he was sure she was deep in sleep, Spencer quietly and carefully got off the bed and navigated through her apartment, getting her a glass of water and leaving it on the table next to her bed. And because he couldn't help it, he cleaned up some of the clothes that were scattered around her floor, depositing them into the hamper and straightening out a few more things that were out of place.

He looked over at her sleeping figure one more time, sighed, and then left, keeping her bedroom door open just a crack.

***

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer.

Despite his better judgement, he'd plopped himself down on her couch after making sure she was sound asleep, hoping to catch his breath and sort through what he was feeling before he got behind the wheel. But of course, it was 2am and he was exhausted, and he couldn't stop himself from closing his eyes and drifting off.

And now he was sitting up, looking around the apartment through the lens of morning.

Though the curtains were sheer, they didn't provide much light, but enough of it showed him just how familiar the space was. Y/N hadn't moved anything around. The same art was on the same walls, the potted ivy plant on her mantle sat un-watered and withering, and every book and record and DVD on her shelves was in the exact same spot as they'd all been the last time he was there in December.

Meanwhile, after the breakup he'd re-arranged everything. He was so sure that they were through for good this time around that he wanted a clean slate. Not that he wanted to rid himself of her memory completely, but if he was going to move on from the hold she'd had on him, he had to do something...

And yet, he ended up at her apartment the morning after Valentine's Day all the same.

He heard the shower running faintly a couple rooms away. You didn't have to pass the couch to get there, so maybe she hadn't seen him sleeping and he could get away cleanly.

Spencer scrambled off the couch, thankful that he hadn't removed his jacket or his shoes and that he could just sprint towards the door without having to find any of his belongings.

But as luck would have it, the second he took a step, the shower turned off. He had to get out of there quickly, but if he did then she'd definitely know he'd stayed overnight. But if he went quietly, he wouldn't have enough time before she caught him.

Maybe I could hide...

He shook the thought with a roll of his eyes, settling on the clearest course of action, which was to make as quick of a getaway as he could. He'd try to be quiet as well, though the creaky door was going to be nearly impossible to get through without a sound.

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard her voice.

"You didn't think you could spend the night and then leave without saying goodbye, did 'ja?"

The pure amusement in her tone made his stomach churn, and it wasn't unpleasant in the slightest.

Spencer turned and smiled softly, avoiding looking at her completely. "Sorry. Didn't want to bother you."

"You're never a bother."

That sentiment held less amusement and more sincerity, which was what guided his eyes to meet the woman who said the words.

His stomach twisted again when he saw her, exactly like he knew she'd be— wrapped in nothing but a thin towel with near-dripping hair cascading down her back. Her legs were bare and exposed, the towel not only thin but short, which meant that her chest was also practically spilling out of it. Despite the obvious and inevitable hungover look in her eye, there was also a good splash of that mischief that'd always been there— the kind that spelled out trouble.

He needed to get out of there.

"Well, um... I'm glad I got you home safe," he said, clearing his throat. "I should... I should go."

"You sure you don't wanna stay for breakfast?"

Spencer could have sworn she was teasing him, dangling her body in front of him like a meal they both knew he wouldn't be able to resist. But then she added, "I've got everything I need for your favorite omelet," and he exhaled with a small smile, exhausted with his own mind for convincing him that she was out to pull him back in.

Still, he declined. "No, I... I shouldn't. But, uh, thank you..."

"You sure?"

This time when he looked up at her, she was closer. She was gently striding forward to meet him, and he half thought about backing up towards the door until he realized he was already there.

"I—I'm sure. Really."

"But you drove around all night just to take me home when I was drunk, the least I can do is feed you..."

"Eh, it's alright. It's... Nothing I haven't done before."

She stopped then, her eyes briefly dropping to the floor. It was like her whole demeanor changed—just for a second—from the prowess she'd always been, to what seemed to be a woman filled with sadness and regret. It didn't last long though, just enough for Spencer to notice it before she looked back up at him with that wicked gleam in her eye and a remark right at the tip of her tongue.

"Still. I feel bad, making you do all that for me... Especially now."

He wasn't sure what to make of this... It seemed like she was sincere, but she was also alluring, calling to him like a siren leading him to his ultimate demise. And while he'd come to know that as merely a part of her nature, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that she was doing it on purpose.

She was in a skimpy towel, after all, and she definitely knew how to use that to her advantage.

It didn't help that he didn't have the courage to leave. Everything inside of him right then longed to drop that towel and indulge himself once more. Putting aside all the heartache and the differences they shared, all he felt in that moment was the need to touch her— to get lost in her and never be found again.

She was his fatal flaw, and it was painfully obvious.

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer...

He was over to her in just three strides, throwing off his jacket and tossing it aside before cradling her face with his hands and bringing their lips together for the first time since Christmas Eve.

The small whine in her throat signaled that she hadn't expected it, but welcomed it all the same. The moment she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, the towel fell to the floor, and there was no going back.

"What about breakfast?" Y/N breathed out once they pulled away for air.

Spencer contemplated, studying her face, seeing the way her eyes sparkled, and decided on the two words that sealed his fate.

"Screw breakfast."

Their lips were melded together almost as soon as the words left his mouth. And it wasn't long before every other part of their bodies were melded together as well.

Y/N helped him take the rest of his clothes off as they danced around the entryway and the living room. Everything was open, no walls separating the living room from the kitchen, so to compensate for the lack of breakfast they'd be eating, they migrated to the kitchen counter once Spencer had off everything but his boxers.

He trapped her against the cool marble of the countertop, her back hitting it solid and sending a shiver up her spine. Meanwhile his hands roamed her body, unsure of where to be other than on her at all times, whether it be her waist, her stomach, her arms, her breasts, or her ass. He wanted to feel all of her, and quite frankly she wanted the same.

She even told him so, in her own way, by bringing one of her legs up and wrapping it around his waist, pulling him closer to her as she wove her fingers through his hair and tasted his tongue with her own.

The action elicited a groan from his mouth, low and desperate. Spencer settled his hands on her waist and gripped it tight, silently telling her what to do.

So she jumped up and he helped guide her swiftly onto the counter. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist again, and he found himself grinding into her hips, urgent to feel every part of her. And thankfully she was feeling rather desperate herself, because she rolled her hips up into him in return, breaking their mouths apart just briefly to speak.

"Fuck me..."

There was so much he wanted to say to her in that moment— how badly he was feeling about keeping her entertained while he was slowly deteriorating inside from her emotional detachment and rejection, how much she frustrated him, and more prominently, how she was so goddamn impatient and that he was getting there...

But all that he could manage was a broken, desperate whisper of her name.

It was all he'd ever known.

All that frustration... All that anger, heartache, passion, and time apart combined beautifully into those few syllables that made up her name and tore him apart from the inside out.

And his hands were just as destructive.

Spencer deftly dropped his boxers to the ground and pushed forward, almost losing all sense of self the moment the head of his dick finally made contact with her cunt. He made his way inside of her and then used both of his hands to grip her waist and bring her closer, their mouths connecting harshly as they found one another once again.

His grip was bruising— not possessive in any way, but desperate, like he had to cling to her for dear life or he wouldn't live to see another day. He held himself inside her, sighing and whimpering into her mouth as she clenched around him. It was so familiar, so comfortable and exhilarating that he almost didn't even want to move. He thought about staying there, still inside her forever.

But as always, Y/N was insatiable.

She wrapped all her limbs around him and held on, rolling her hips and seeking friction in any way possible when she briefly tore her lips away from his.

"I need you, baby, please..."

Even as his heart started to rumble in his chest, well aware of the fact that she still probably didn't love him the way he loved her, Spencer gave her everything. He pulled out and snapped his hips forward again, setting a strong, steady pace that had Y/N's eyes rolling back, and the payoff of hearing her sigh out his name was more than enough to keep him going.

Her nails dug deliciously into his shoulders, the faint sting adding something reminiscent of gasoline to a fire. The flames grew taller and brighter the more he fucked her, and with each gradual increase of volume and intensity, it was a wonder the whole kitchen around them hadn't literally burst into flames.

That's how they always were.

Together like this, so lost in the high of each others' bodies, it was easy to forget the things that made their relationship so hard. It was easy to let all the negativity slip away into the throes of pent-up, well-needed sex. The high they gave each other was merely that— A high...

A distraction.

And while that's exactly what Y/N needed, what she preferred in most cases, it's what Spencer recognized as completely unhealthy, despite his coming back to it every time.

It's also why he dreaded the moment ending. Because once they came down from the high, all that's left would be sadness, regret... Guilt... Their fire burned hot, brightly and wildly, but in the aftermath would lay only a thick layer of deadly smoke between them— hard to navigate, and nearly impossible to breathe in without suffocating.

So they simply burned and burned and burned...

Spencer gripped her so tight he was sure to leave her with bruising. And in turn Y/N dragged her nails down his back and dug them into his ass, her palm laying firmly over the muscles that aided in fucking her into the marbled surface. She whined out curses and moans, and he cried out broken whispers of her name, pet names, and curses alike.

Even once she'd come, he kept going, willing himself to hold on as long as he could. She whined into his ear at the overstimulation. And rather than keeping her legs wrapped around his body, she decided to spread them wide, perching her heels up on the counter as far as she could go and anchoring her fingers through his hair.

And though she might not have had enough orgasms in her to keep up with him, she welcomed it all the same—She welcomed the burn just as much as he did.

Even still, no fire can burn forever.

All concept of time was lost by the time Spencer finally collapsed forward, completely spent and barely standing on weak legs after coming twice. Y/N held onto him tightly to keep him upwards, lightly massaging his scalp with gentle fingers and closing her eyes as she focused on his breathing— the way it fanned over the skin of her bare shoulder and how it sounded, perfectly in time with hers...

It was the most peaceful she'd been in a long time.

She felt him pull out of her, the both of them groaning at the feeling, and a little at the mess it would make.

Spencer gently peeled his body off of hers, sniffing once and avoiding her eyes. "Sorry... You just got out of the shower..."

"It's fine," Y/N breathed. She begged him silently to look her in the eye, but he remained still... Most likely thinking. She could practically see the cogs turning in his brain.

So, in an effort to lighten the mood a bit, she added with a breathy laugh, "Besides... It's nothing I haven't done before."

The callback to his words—and memories of all the times they'd found themselves in this position before—got Spencer to laugh a little, but he still wouldn't meet her eyes.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I'll... I'll grab the wipes?"

"Oh. Sure," Y/N returned with a thankful smile. It was hopeful, too, though the moment he was out of eyesight, it turned rather sad.

She'd known that behavior before, seen that hesitation in his movements and that sound in his voice.

It was guilt.

Regret.

Probably a bit of self-hatred, too.

When he returned, a pile of her clothes in hand and the bag of wipes on top, she took them from him with a kind smile and cleaned herself up while he put his clothes back on.

The silence was more uncomfortable than anything either of them had ever experienced.

So much so, that Y/N couldn't even muster up the courage to ask him to stay for breakfast— and she always did after one of their post-break hookups.

Maybe this time really was different.

Spencer was just at the door again when she stopped him.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was so small, he almost didn't hear it. "For bringing me home..."

But he paused, turned, and finally looked her in the eye.

He almost sunk to his knees right there...

Seeing her, arms crossed like she was trying to keep warm, as her head hung low and she looked up at him through sad, hooded eyelids...

It reminded him of the woman he fell in love with.

But in his peripheral, he saw the towel on the floor and was reminded of the woman who'd shattered his heart.

Spencer cleared his throat. Once upon a time he might have returned her thanks with, Anytime, but... Honestly he wasn't sure there could ever be another time. For his sanity, he'd have to avoid 'anytime' at all costs.

So, he settled on, "You're welcome."

He was glad to see her return his kind smile with one of her own, even if it was tainted with sadness, and a small wave goodbye.

Maybe this time it would stick.

Even still, as he closed the door behind him and made his way to the parking lot, for some reason it didn't quite feel like goodbye.

And some of that deadly smoke that settled in his lungs as he drove further and further away from her apartment was inclined to agree.

***

Neither of them could sleep that night.

While Spencer stared out the window of the jet, a little annoyed to be called out on a case so late but at least thankful for the distraction, Y/N laid in bed, staring at the stars on her ceiling.

The same constellation caught their eye.

Columba.

The Dove.

She hadn't even meant to arrange the stars like that, but one night after a date, they were laying in her bed and Spencer pointed out that the cluster of plastic stars right in the corner of the ceiling looked like Columba.

Y/N fondly remembered Spencer telling her about how it was originally named to represent Noah's dove, which searched for dry land during the great biblical flood and returned carrying an olive branch to make news of its recession— of peace at last.

The memory made her smile. It tugged at her heart and made her dreams of him even more vivid.

All the same, Spencer noticed the constellation outside the jet window and remembered that same night. The smile on her face as he told her the story, the feel of her fingers gliding softly over the bare skin of his forearm...

It was the first night since he'd met her that he thought it.

I love her...

He almost told her then, too, but he was afraid it was too soon. So he refrained.

Looking back, Spencer was starting to regret that— Maybe without that extra time together, breaking up would have been easier. But instead, he gave her more time. He gave himself more time to fall deeper in love with her, and in the end it still wasn't enough.

Now they were both looking at the same constellation, one made of plastic and the other of gas, wondering if their flood would ever recede.

And in the event that it did... Who would be the dove, and what would be their olive branch?

“You know I dream about getting back together in the future, I could focus on you. But if I leave right now, I hope that you don’t find someone that touches you the way that I do...”

***

SERIES TAGLIST: @reidyoulikeabook @yourmisosoup @fortheloveofcriminalminds @bellzo17 @altsvu @flipperpenguins @mcumorningstar

TAGS NOT WORKING: @reid-to-me @totallyclearwitch

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds angst #losing you twice

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galaxysharks · 3 years

Text

An Idea for a Season 3 episode:

Set during some form of summer drama camp with East and North Cohabiting. The Wildcats have just learned Gina's birthday (several months late, butbyou know... Details...), and now want to throw a small suprise party in their cabin.

Problem is, Ms. Jenn doesn't think they can pull it off without Gina noticing.

Thus begins Operation Gina is a Blind Girl.

Carlos: seeing as Gina did such a great job planning my party, its only fair i return the favor and give her a birthday she never got.

Ms. Jenn: Now Carlos thats great, but I just don't see any way to pull together something as big as this and not have her notice, she's very observent.

Ashlyn: Sorry did you just say observent? About Gina?

Nini: Gina Porter? Who carrys around 75lbs of stuff and keeps track of exactly none of it?

Kourtney: Pretty sure we could change out her perfume for pepper spray and she'd only notice when the doctor showed up to treat the burns.

Nini: Look Ms. Jenn, we love Gina, she motivates us, lifts us up, is absolutely the baddest girl at East High, and we're all better for having known her...

Carlos: ...But that girl blind as hell.

Ms. Jenn: oh I'm sure its not that ba...

Ricky: How about this, Gina's got like... 10 things she's carrying right now. We each bring back something without her noticing by lights out tonight, and you give us the go ahead.

Ms. Jenn: ...Fine, but let it be known that I accept thisboffer purely on the principle of the teachable moment that will result.

Carlos: Good enough for us.

Que Montage:

Seb grabs scarf left on a bench and wears it.

Gina: Seb! I love your scarf, you know i actually made one similar to it a few weeks ago. I think its in the cabin, I'll show you before lights out.

Seb: Wow G! We must have used the same pattern! I like to knit when keeping Milky White Company during storms. We should have aknitting party sometime.

Gina: Oh, Yes Seb. All the yes. Hey, you had trouble on that stitch toward the end too huh?

Ashlyn asks for a drink and never returns the water bottle, Gina thinks she left it in her bag back at the cabin.

Big Red swipes a pack of gum and soon the whole group is chewing while Gina continues about her day.

Nini asks to try on her shoes and walks back to an increasingly concerned Ms. Jenn, nearly falling from the now nonexistant tread on the bottoms.

Kourtney takes the spoon Ginas using at lunch, Leading to her confusedly getting another one, trying to figure out how she got so far into her soup without it.

Ej grabs the pen she's Drawing with, as Ricky just rolls up the drawing itself.

Ms. Jenn: Ok kids, you've made your point...

Carlos: No I plan to see this out. I'm going to walk right up to her get her phone, that she's holding, Talk to her for like 15sec. Then walk right back here, phone in hand, without her noticing.

Ms. Jenn (desperately): No really Carlos its fine...

Carlos (Walking to Gina): Too Late! Already Doing It!

Gina: doing what?

Carlos: I was just talking to Ms. Jenn about a tap number for you and Big Red to lead into the intermission. He said you two were looking at different routines last night. Can you show me?

Gina: Yes! I love that Big Red's so into this, by the time of the show, North High will be the ones needing to down three bottles of Pepto to sooth their nerves. before a show

Carlos: G, I love this but whats that move at the 3 min mark?

Gina: Yeah, Yeah that took forever for me too, its so fast, but Big Red walked me through it, let me show you....

Ms. Jenn (head in hands): I am never letting her out of my sight in touristy areas...

Carlos (flooding Ginas photo gallery with thousands of selfies, Gina quietly patting down her sides looking for something in thw background): So you'll help?

#hsmtsts #gina porter #ej x gina #nini salazar roberts #ej caswell #ashlyn hsmtmts #carlos rodriguez #seb mathew smith #ms jenn #hsm the series #kourtney hsmtmts #ricky bowen #hsmtmts season 3 #big red redonovich #ricky x nini

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allthingskakashi · 4 years

Note

You said you don't write NSFW but what about a fluff "morning after" scenario for kakashi and a female S/O. Like, they had their first time the night before and they're waking up in the next morning and it's just fluff and cuteness all over. If you don't write this type of stuff either you can just ignore the ask. Take all the time you need if you're going to write it 💜

Hey anon! I’m good with writing a morning after! god it’ll be so fluffy and cute ugh and he’s gonna be the best!! Hope you like it! :)))

• The Morning After •

[Kakashi x Reader]

Languor takes over all your senses, making you barely aware of your surroundings. You want to get up, but it feels like you’re not even in control of your own body.

You squeeze your eyes tight as you feel the harsh bright rays of the Sun hitting your sleep ridden, heavy eyelids. It must be well past when you usually wake up. You’re so sleepy, but you need to get up. This is your off day in a long time and you’ve got a lot to do. A list of all the things you need to get done once you’re up runs through your subconscious mind, perturbing you.

This fucking sunlight though, Jesus.

You force your eyes open just a slit. A blurry image of a room that’s not your own comes into view. Ugh I can’t even process anything.

You turn your gaze to your immediate vicinity and see an extended arm sticking out from under your head.

Oh.

Kakashi…

Images flood into your mind at the speed of light.

You and Kakashi watching TV…Kakashi carrying you from the couch to his bed… the two of you entangled in each other’s arms, kissing like it was for survival…him lifting your t-shirt slowly over your head…His mouth exploring your every curve and crevice…your sweaty bodies in rhythmic synchronization…both of your moans reverberating through the room…holding each other tight…falling asleep in his arms…

You feel the loud thud of your heart hammering in your chest as a montage of last night’s events plays through your mind. You’re fully awake and in your senses now. Your heart is racing as you recollect everything that happened just a few hours ago. Did that really happen?

Just the recollection sends a warm rush to your cheeks, followed closely by a feeling of overwhelming happiness in your heart. Yes, it did.

And with none other than Kakashi, the man you’re deeply in love with. The man you know loves you so much he’d die for you in a heartbeat. The man you know is the one.

You smile in contentment.

You take Kakashi’s hand sticking out from under your head and place a soft kiss on his palm, before intertwining your fingers with his. Judging by how motionless his hand feels, he must still be sound asleep. The thought of his beautiful face in tranquility, with his mussed hair sprawled all over it makes you smile to yourself. You slowly turn to your other side to face Kakashi, careful not to disturb him; anticipating a replicated sight of the image inside your head.

Facing him now, you rest your gaze upon him, only to catch him wide awake, staring at you with eyes so full of love and warmth, a subtle smile on his lips. His smile broadens as soon as your eyes meet.

He looks angelic lying there beside you, his ashen hair shining silver in the sunlight. You can’t help but smile back at him.

“Good morning”, you whisper, snuggling closer to Kakashi’s chest. “How long have you been up?”

He pulls you in further and kisses the top of your head. “A while. Did you sleep okay?”

“The best I’ve slept in ages” you answer truthfully.

“Me too” Kakashi says, firming up his grip around you, his tone husky from the sleep.

The Sun outside is starting to shine brighter now, making you just a tad clammy under all the covers. You bury your face in Kakashi’s chest, trying to block out the light.

He notices, indubitably. Nothing that causes you discomfort ever escapes the copy ninja’s observant eyes. He moves nearer, providing more of his chest as a shield to you.

“I’m sorry about that. I was going to get up and pull the curtains but...” his voice drops low “but you were sleeping on my arm...and I didn’t want to move away” he finishes in a murmur, as if he’s almost embarrassed to admit it.

You raise your head to look at him and start chuckling.

What did I ever to do deserve this guy?

You get an irresistible urge to just reach over and smother him with kisses.

“You’re so fucking cute, you know that?” you say, laughing. He flusters up, just as he always does whenever you compliment him.

“You might have mentioned it a few times” Kakashi says, trying to sound cocky but being deceived by the giddiness in his eyes.

“But still not enough” you say, pulling his face in towards you.

Holding his face in both your hands, you plant a kiss on his forehead, and then bridge of his nose, tracing your lips all over his face. His cheeks, his eyelids, the scar on his eye, his mole, and all across, before pressing your lips on his mouth. He immediately parts his lip, greeting your tongue into his mouth with his own. He requites, taking your face in his hands and pulling you to him as your tongues meet in fervent swirls.

You keep going till you’re completely breathless. You pull your lips apart slowly, panting and unwilling to stop, your lips like opposite ends of a magnet; but needing to catch your breath.

“Well that certainly makes up for missing out on our morning work out today” you remark with smile, your voice teasing.

Kakashi laughs. “More than makes up.”

You fall back down on the bed again, lying side by side on your backs in shared silence, taking in the warmth of each other’s presence.

“Y/n”, Kakashi’s voice breaks the silence after a while. You turn your face to see him looking at you, a solemnness in his eyes, almost as if he’s scared.

“You’re okay, right? I didn’t…hurt you or anything? Please don’t be afraid to tell me whatever you feel. I love you...I hope you know that, even though I may not say it that often. And I really hope that last night was just as great for you as it was for me.” He finishes, his tone genuine but tense.

The sincerity in his voice tugs at your heartstrings. No one has ever cared for you so much before. But then, no one before was Kakashi. You’ve been with guys before, but none of them ever made you feel the way Kakashi did. And you didn’t care much for how they made you feel either, they’d meant nothing to you. But Kakashi… he was perfect in every way. He was so considerate and patient with you, making sure you were okay and having a good time every step of the way. He had never even rushed you to do anything despite the two of you being together for almost 6 months now. He had never so much as hinted at anything.

You reach out and put your hand across his cheek, stroking it lightly.

“Kakashi… last night was the most beautiful night of my life. You were great. And I’m FINE. Better than fine. I’m really happy, and I’m glad last night happened. And i do know how much you love me. I love you too.” you say smiling as you stroke out the frown lines on his face.

Kakashi’s eyes soften, relief flowing over his face, smoothing out his features. A strange stiffness that you had noticed in him all this while vanishes and Kakashi looks like himself again. Even better, he looks happy. He beams at you, leaning over and placing a kiss on your lips.

“Well, how about some breakfast? I’ll make you your favorite.” Kakashi asks, sitting up on the bed now.

“Oh no, that’s fine, you don’t have to. I actually better get going. I have a lot to do today” you say, sighing, sitting up yourself.

“No, you don’t” Kakashi says, flatly.

You look at him, befuddled. “What do you mean? Yes, I do. I have to get my laundry, do some grocery shopping, organise my kitchen cabinets, clean my—”

“It’s all taken care of.” Kakashi answers, in the same flat voice.

“Huh?” you look at him, your face scrunched up, completely confused.

Kakashi laughs at the look on your face and takes your hands in his.

“Well, Y/n…I really wanted to spend the day with you. We hardly ever get off days or get to spend much time together. I wanted to spend time with you today so I got some clones and my ninken to care of all that for you”

You look at him, open mouthed, completely speechless.

“what did you- how did you even know what all I needed to do?”

“just saw the to-do list on your refrigerator last time I was at your place” he shrugs.

You gape at him, trying to process.

“Wait a minute, you really got Pakkun to agree to do my CHORES?”

“Well...” he pauses for a while… “eventually.” “you know I can sweet talk anyone into anything” Kakashi finishes, with a sly grin and a wink.

You laugh, staring at Kakashi in awe, completely caught off guard by all of this.

As the initial shock and confusion of the situation subsides , a sense of relief floods through you. You feel a little guilty for feeling this way but the realization that you now have no chores to do for the entire day and are free to spend a whole day with your boyfriend makes you way too happy to mull over that right now. Both your heart and your mind feel free of any worries. It’s just you and him now.

You crawl closer to Kakashi, climbing over his extended legs and positioning yourself on his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck, as his back rests against the headboard.

A mischief filled smile plays across your lips as you look deep into the eyes of the copy ninja.

“Well then...how about I sweet talk you into joining me for a shower right now, to properly express my gratitude... and then we can make breakfast and spend the rest of the day together?”

Kakashi pulls you in with a jerk, gripping your hips in his hands and returning your smile.

“no sweet talking necessary for that.”

#kakashi #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi headcanons #anime #naruto #naruto fanfiction #hatake kakashi #kakashi hatake #kakashi imagine #kakashi x reader #kakashi fluff #kakashi smut #kakashi smut fanfiction #kakashi fluff fanfiction #kakashi requests #naruto imagine #kakashi x reader fluff #kakashi x reader smut

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cakejots · 3 years

Text

this is us trying, Chapter 3 - The Decision

In this AU, they don’t know each other outside of the suit. And in this AU, Ladybug and Chat Noir love each other. But in this AU, Chat doesn’t want their identities revealed.

Written for @ladynoirjuly 2021

notes: this is a coherent story based on all the prompts; each chapter contains at least 3 prompts

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10

Read on AO3

8. Admiration

Ladybug shifted from her spot at the top of Notre Dame’s North Tower, awaiting Chat’s arrival. The time it took to get in contact with him again wasn’t very long, but it was longer than the intervals between their dates. She understood that he has his own life to live, and sometimes, their schedules just really couldn’t match up. But for this time, in particular, she couldn’t help but feel that he was avoiding her.

Was it really a coincidence that he got especially busy right after he left her alone on that rooftop? She didn’t know.

Even though Ladybug had arrived 15 minutes earlier, she had that irrational fear that he wouldn’t turn up. She knew Chat wasn't like that, he always keeps his word. But she couldn’t help it, the possibility that their relationship could take a turn for the worse frightened her.

Luckily, before her thoughts could spiral out of control, Chat landed a few metres away from her.

Relief flooded her chest as Chat slowly stood from his crouched position. She was about to run over and throw her arms around him when his words stopped her.

“I’m really sorry for what I’ve done that day.” Chat wasn’t at his full height, his body posture was humbled and he was rubbing his hands.

“What I did was horrible, and I’ve no excuse for the way I treated you that day.” He had his head lowered and his eyes glimpsed at her ever so often, to see if she was listening to him. “I understand if you want to walk away, I just hope you’ll forgive me.”

Her eyes harden, posture standing even taller than before. Ladybug eyed him. This was the second time he had talked about her leaving him.

“I’m not going to walk away, Chat.” Her eyes softened as he flinched from her sudden rush of words. “But I’ll be lying if I said that didn’t hurt. I just want to know why it happened.”

Tears filled his green eyes as he fixed them on hers. His face held a sombre expression, as though it physically hurt him to be saying those next words.

“My lady,” he pleaded with a voice thick of desperation. “Forgive me, I promise I’ll tell you one day. Just… I can’t— not now…”

Ladybug sighed.

“Please know that,” he quickly rushed to her and embraced her tightly. “I didn’t regret giving you that kiss! Never.”

Ladybug raised her arms and tightened her grip on him as he trembled.

“Thank you for your assurance, Chaton.” She pulled back and surveyed his face. “I’m aware that this is a bit insensitive, but could you wait here for 5 minutes? I’m just going to get some stuff.”

Chat grew uneasy. To be alone on a cool night? He was reasonably unsettled, especially after what had confronted him just moments ago. Ladybug said she wouldn’t walk away, but now she’s asking him to stay here? How could he not be worried?

“Just 5 minutes,” her fingers grazed his face. “I promise you’ll enjoy our date even more after I bring those things here.”

He should trust her. He knows he could trust her. After all, she had said she wouldn't leave. It happened once, it can happen again.

“We can call each other while I’m—“

“It’s okay, my lady.” He pulled back and smiled. “I’ll see you in 5 minutes.”

Ladybug wasn’t convinced that he’s okay, but she gave him a peck on the cheek to ease his doubts. “I’ll be back before you know it!”

And true to her words, she came back in 3 minutes, with two pillows, a thick blanket, and a laptop in her arms.

Chat eyed them quizzingly.

“We, are going to get comfortable and watch montages of ourselves!” She sat beside him, the Ladyblog web page now visible on her screen. “Looking at how awesome we were would give us that extra endorphins boost, don't you think?”

“We are still awesome now, what are you saying?” He wrapped the blanket around them.

She giggled. “We should do some parkour sometimes.”

Bundled up in blankets with their limbs tangled, they sat there watching the best moments they had while battling Akumas, fondness for themselves and for the other clear on their faces.

Ladybug has always been like this, trying to solve whatever issues that arise. It’s how they’ve won battle after battle. Even after the threat is gone, she’s still trying to salvage the situation, no matter how small it is in the grand scheme of things.

Chat was immensely grateful for what she had done tonight. The videos had really calmed his nerves and brought back all those euphoric memories he once had. The reason why he was doing this in the first place. The joy his lady had brought to him whenever he spent time with her. The love and admiration he felt for her as she stood up against Hawkmoth on their first day as superheroes, despite Ladybug believing that she wasn’t suited for her calling.

The love…

He tightened his hold around her.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just mesmerised by how cool we are.”

How could he have forgotten? How miraculously amazing she was. No. She still is, up till this very day. Even after 6 years. Even after he denied her what she wanted most following Shadowmoth’s defeat. Even after what he’s done to their relationship. She never walked away from him, and is still trying to rectify the situation.

He wasn’t making it easy for her, even though it should’ve been after the final battle. It’s really unfair to her.

And yet, she’s still here, she still chose to stick with him.

This can’t go on.

He took hold of her hand and brought it to his lips. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

9. Cinema

“Come on, come on, come on, we’re gonna be late!” Chat hurriedly pushed her into the cinema, worried that they wouldn't make it to showtime.

“Wasn’t that 5-hour binge-watch enough?” Ladybug was obviously excited about the movie, but she couldn’t allow him the satisfaction so easily.

“Of course not! This is the sequel to the series!” He continued pushing as if there’s nothing entirely wrong with his behaviour.

“And we’re heading to a cinema now. Didn’t you say you wanted us to be as discreet as possible?” She raised her eyebrow despite Chat not being able to see her face.

“Yeah, but it’s the premiere today! We won’t be able to watch it on the laptop.” They stopped at the cinema hall entrance and Chat scanned his ticket for the seat number before he continued pushing. “Also, watching in a cinema after hours of watching from a smaller screen is just a different experience, no?”

They finally arrived at the row where their seats were, but he continued resting his hands on her shoulder, guiding her to her seat before finally letting her go. “Besides, Parisians won’t kick us out after the ‘patrol’ stun we pulled.”

She rolled her eyes. “I mean we did do our job when something happened.”

Although animated films are popular in France, this particular one didn’t attract as many audiences as those action-packed animated films, which was a blessing and a curse because they would be able to get away with minimal attention on them, but also so many people are missing out on this greatness.

“Anyway, do you think we’ll cry again?” She rubbed her tear-stained eyes, “I don’t think I’ve any liquid left in me for that.”

“Nonsense, there’s definitely more in you,” he cupped her cheeks to have a better look at her. “And you still look so pretty even after all that crying.”

“Oh, quite the sadist, aren’t you? Does my crying bring you joy?”

“Come on, Buguinette, you can’t deny it was phenomenal.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It is phenomenal. But couldn’t we spread it out even more? The watch time on that series I mean.”

“I… I won’t have time for the rest of the week,” his smile fell as his hands caressed her cheeks. “I’m really sorry.”

“No wonder you wanted to spend the whole day today,” she teased. “Well, no worries about it! I love spending time with you.”

He moved his hand to hers and placed a kiss on her knuckles. “Thank you, my lady.”

And that’s when the lights started dimming. They relaxed into their respective seats, but not without interlacing their hands together.

The movie, of course, had delivered what the series had set out to do. The cinema was filled with sniffles and sobs and Ladybug and Chat Noir were certainly not spared from the experience. They were tearing like they had been all afternoon, the only difference was that they weren’t able to hold the other as tightly as they would’ve liked due to the armrest in between them.

And they didn’t realise the importance of tissues until that night. They had to go to the toilet to clean their face and clear their noses before continuing with other plans they had had for the night.

10. Moonlight

As they left the establishment, they were surprised to see how the gleaming of the silver orb that hung in the sky rivalled that of The City of Light.

Chat proposed spending the rest of the night at the top of the Eiffel Tower, given that it has been a while since they were there. And immediately regretted that suggestion when he remembered that their last memories of the Eiffel Tower were of him expressing his wishes to hold off the reveal right after the final battle.

But Ladybug eagerly agreed and was already well on her way. He had no choice but to follow through.

When he arrived, he was awestruck by the moon. He has—

“—never seen the moon this big! Wow!” Ladybug proclaimed as she took in the moon in all its beauty.

She was captivated by the glamour of the moon, but to Chat, it seemed as though she was basking in the moonlight. Her suit gave off a shimmering red glow not often seen and her dark hair looked midnight blue under it. Her back was towards him, but as she turned around to move towards the spot next to him, he felt his own heartbeat quickened. The brilliance of her blue orbs awed him, they were of a pigment he had never seen before in her eyes.

“Wow indeed.”

They moved to sit side by side on the edge and took in the view of the moon and of the city. Did they really enjoy this view of the city weekly before? Has it always been this beautiful?

“You know,” Ladybug started, breaking the silence. “I’m really glad he chose what he did in the end.”

“Yeah, they finally got together.”

She peered upwards. “It wasn’t an easy journey, but I’m so satisfied with that ending. I’m sure everyone was crying tears of joy too.”

That animated series as a whole was about conveying your feelings to the ones you love. Which he did, a lot. He was never one to shy away from declaring his love for her. But why did everything change after the final battle? Why did he change after the final battle?

His heart must’ve been tired of what his brain was trying to reason about, and thus led him to pick this series to watch, and eventually the movie. All the answers were there.

He knew his lady well enough and was certain that she wouldn't walk away. She has proved that time and time again.

So what was preventing him from being with her, when he very much desired to have a happy ending with her as well?

In some ways, his current predicament was similar to Gilbert’s. He was afraid. He was afraid that she’ll abandon him after she found out who he really was, and what he’s done.

But…

Chat looked over to see Ladybug moonbathing and enjoying the light breeze. Was it too much to hope for a happy ending himself? He knew damn well how Violet felt throughout the whole ordeal of trying to get Gilbert back by her side. Did he really want his lady to end up that way eventually, when he had the ability to prevent that?

No. That’s too brutal. The world was already cruel to him. But if he could prevent that cruelty and enable her to witness how beautiful life can be, how pleasant she had made life for him, he’d do it.

“Chaton?”

Those eyes that looked at him as though he hung the stars in her sky. Those wide blue eyes that never gave up on him despite his failure to give her what she wanted most. Those worried, concerned eyes, so full of love.

He was choked up with emotions.

“I love you.”

Ladybug inhaled sharply and stared at him unblinking, unsure if she misheard those words.

She reached out to him slowly. “Can… Can you say that again?”

“I love you.” He took her hand and squeezed it, leaning in to press his warm lips against her cheek.

He pulled back to see tears in the corner of her eyes.

“My lady?”

She still stared at him as her tears started to trickle down her face.

His hands flew to her face. “My—”

Ladybug threw her arms around him with such vitality that they toppled over. “I love you too!”

He pulled her in to close any gaps between them, so very glad that she still felt the same despite all that has happened. She planted a heartwarming kiss on his cheek as Chat landed on his back.

They basked in each other’s warmth and presence. He stroked her hair and she melted into him, happy tears flowing as her kitty was starting to declare his love for her again, verbally.

“My lady, can we meet up again tomorrow?”

“I thought you said you were busy?” She giggled.

“I did,” he grinned. “But who said anything about meeting during the hours of the day?”

#ladynoirjuly2021 #ladynoirjuly #ladynoir #mesfics #miraculous ladybug #fanfic #mlb fanfic #ladybug #chat noir #alternate universe #light angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #this is us trying

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textsfromninjagoblog · 3 years

Text

🏮DotD debts part 1: Abandoned RPs🏮

Now this could get long so going to try to make a read more cut, hope it works!

:readmore:

First debt to settle here is probably the longest overdue and the one I feel most guilty about: the never finished “Slumber Party of the Departed” RP.

I’d like to both thank @purplerose244 , @brieflyshypuppy , @thatoneninjagosideblog , @geode-masterofcrystal , @letheboo , @ninjago12345 and apologize.

I was in my last year of high school when I was trying to run it, and not in a very good place stress wise, which combined with other life factors led to the abandonment. However, you guys are all awesome and don’t deserve to have put so much fun and work into my madness only to not find out how it would’ve ended, so here’s how it would’ve went!

Once we vanquished Chen, Kasia would have been in danger of being possessed by Morro. It would’ve turned into a giant game of keep-away around the house as we guarded her, with our choices depicting weather or not the possession would’ve happened, and if Geode would have turned into a ghost. However, no matter what, it would’ve been a ticking time bomb for the Preeminent to show up and I would’ve flooded the house with Nya’s full potential.

At this point, people would’ve been fighting off more of their character’s personality kinda seeping in, which sets the stage for the very angsty Skybound Round 2 in the now heavily damaged house.

I had planned on doing something involving a vengeful Delara as Nadakhan himself isn’t dead, but nonetheless the fight against fate would’ve ended the same as og skybound, me in a wedding dress (which for the sake of the story was going to be a cosplay I was forced into by the ghosts at some point) and the poison design on my shirt turning into the Tiger Widow Venom. Blake would have then had an epic moment, saving everyone with a final wish, which would have also fully repaired the house as well.

Since at the time that would’ve been the last aired season (crazy how time flies, right?) when we went to make a move to destroy the Ouija board, Yang would’ve popped out but instead of attacking like we expect, is impressed that we survived the onslaught and presents us each with pins of each ninja’s symbol that allow us to use the gifts we mastered over the night whenever we want/need to. After we send him off with the convenient eclipse happening outside, we would’ve destroyed the board and settled in to watch the primer of DotD, closing out the RP.

Once again, thank you all for participating all those years ago, and if you’d like a copy of the chat logs feel free to message me!

🏮🏮🏮

Debt two is slightly more recent but also on the same note, “Ninjagoland: A Summer RP Experience”.

I thought I’d learned my lesson, but apparently not since life got wild while trying to run this one too. I’d hoped the flexible group setting would allow me to keep better track of it, but when they came out with more and more seasons at a quicker pace than expected I ended up with a writing paralysis that just didn’t clear up, which is what caused the abandonment. Also, I felt things were rapidly changing at the parks to the point it was hard to stay in the correct mind space to write this one, as it started to feel like a period piece in a way.

Same as with the last one, I’d like to apologize to and thank @geekywinemom , @ninjagogolion , @councillake , @kaospersona for participating, you all pushed the story into some crazy fun directions that kept me on my toes for improvisation!

I can’t give an exact closure to this one because it was very improvisation based, down to even what seasons we experienced in what order. Yes,this is why I would always ask what ride you all wanted to go on next, because that determined the next round of chaos! Also, there would have been a ‘lock and load’ montage at the Downtown Disney Lego Store, where the weapons we picked from sets would have become real for us to use against the villains.

The main plot for this one would’ve ended with Sons of Garmadon, which in a terrifying twist, would have seen us returning to the Fantasyland suit to find Harumi waiting for us (and yes, this twist is why I gave us the ultra princess-y suit to stay in!)

We would have worked together with the time twins and the ninja themselves to un-merge the realms before Harumi could fully start her conquest by completing the resurrection.

The archive for this one has its own whole side blog, but if you’d like me to post a list of rides and their corresponding villains/seasons, or are even interested in a possible revival this coming summer, just hit me up!

🏮🏮🏮

The last abandoned RP is so old it was on deviantart, but thank you so much @onyxcia-greystone for your amazing storytelling with the Morro-centric RPs of ours.

I’m sorry that the horrific combination of high school plus writer’s block stopped the RP dead in its tracks. Even though I feel like too different of a person now to go back and finish it, I’m glad to have been taken on such a thrill ride and that your RP turned out so well. Writing Morro is always fun!

#day of the departed #dotd #ninjago dotd #slumber party of the departed #ninjagoland #a quick update #ninjago #halloween #? i guess #might delete later

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remythologise · 3 years

Note

I don't even watch SPN but all the rants got me super intrigued, is it possible to get a layman's summary of what's going on? I think I understand why the Destiel canon confession thing got everyone mad but what happened after? What's the meta narrative everyone's talking about? Was there an expectation of something and they didn't deliver? Just super curious feel free to ignore if you don't have the time x

Hey anon! Sorry for flooding your dash haha. Layman’s summary is as follows:

Of the people watching SPN and shipping Destiel in season 15, most don’t expect it to be canon. A small group of people are providing meta being like it’s DEFINITELY going canon, but 500 times bitten 600 times shy, most don’t believe them. Now I wanna say, this meta - on the most part - makes sense. It does. It just assumes a smarter show than I think Supernatural is.

Season 12-15, from when Dabb takes over as showrunner, is emotionally about building a family around ‘Jack’ a nephilim child who considers Sam, Dean and Cas his ‘three dads’. They love him as a son, textually this is stated many times.

Season 15 is a meta narrative in which the characters face off against God, ‘the Author’. The Author also represents the SPN writers. Many people believed that this meant the end of the show would be Sam and Dean being ‘free’ of the narrative that had chained them, which is, to SPN’s credit, exactly what happened (if executed extremely fucking poorly.) The defeat of God is the one plot point in 15.19 I liked, even if I don’t like how it was done.

During this season and to be honest, many previous seasons, there’s a really subtle Dean/Cas narrative being drawn, and when I say ‘subtle’, I mean like, it’s loud for an intelligent show, but quiet for a CW show where nothing is written subtly. And this season, there’s a beautiful line being strung through about free will, about how Castiel had free will, how he fell for Dean, outside the narrative. Outside of the author’s intention. It matches up with the meta arc.

15.18 airs, Destiel goes canon with Cas’ confession, suddenly everything is on the table. The show REALLY IS intelligent enough to understand that amazing meta narrative; the characters falling in love outside the author’s plan. They really bring it into canon. Suddenly, all the bi flag lighting and weird tap dance scenes in this season make SENSE. And I mean that sincerely; it was like the arc of the season was completely locked into place with this. Everything had a place to fall into. Everyone is very excited for the end, because surely, surely, this being a grand epic narrative where one main character confesses to another, Castiel would not stay dead. The narrative had showed us that Dean loved him, through mixtapes given and unmatched grief for his death and choked off prayers. And tap dancing with lamps, if you read into that.

I think the problem is that the Dean/Cas arc was written subtly by the talented writers who love it, and for that reason it’s far better than anything else in season 15. And I think people wrongly assumed that Dean would be allowed to love a man in return, despite the narrative imperative he return Cas’ love (Cas being a character who has never really been treated the way he deserved, and a happy ending being the antithesis to Chuck/The Author’s desired tragic ending) Which brings us to

15.19 airs, and it’s a complete clusterfuck. The episode itself is the worst I’ve seen, hands down. The writing is terrible, the ending is anti-climatic, they have montages that are supposed to be emotional but just seem like random clips of random characters to completely incorrect music choices. Not only that, but the characters end the episode emotionally OOC in a way I’ve never seen before. At the start of the episode, Dean begs God/Chuck to bring Cas back to life. Chuck has the power to do this; we see this when he resurrects Lucifer from the same place Cas is. At the end of the episode, Jack, despite having acquired God’s powers, resurrects EVERYONE IN THE WORLD, but not Castiel. Castiel is not mentioned, by Jack - the son who adored him, and who he adored - and not by Dean - who had just received a love confession from him, and had not twenty minutes earlier begged God to kill him and Sam and bring back everyone especially Cas. Hello?

There are so many plotholes and canon continuity errors and dropped plot points with 15.19 but let me say the most glaring wrt Cas; in s15, Ruby asks Cas to free her from the Empty. She says it’s eternal suffering for demons and angels there. We know the Empty hates Cas. Lucifer, in this ep, mentions the Empty being a fucking nightmare. And yet DESPITE ALL OF THIS, Castiel is left there to suffer. And the writers it seems are pretending that the Empty is meant to be ‘peaceful’, despite this being mentioned nowhere in text.

At the end of the episode, Sam and Dean toast to Jack and Castiel, to the ‘ones they lost’ and then just seem to be happy and fine with everything. Sam doesn’t even mention his love interest, Eileen, who he had been panicking over being dead. And full smile coming from the man, Dean Winchester, who was textually suicidal last time he thought Castiel was dead. What??? But it really does seem like the family was just broken up without any emotional catharsis and Castiel’s confession won’t be addressed.

As far as we are aware, Misha Collins is not returning and the next ep is a Monster of the Week brother-centred ‘classic’ episode finale.

So basically; everything intelligent we thought was happening in the story was mostly a lie, Dean/Castiel was no-homo’d out of being a beautiful never before seen meta narrative love story (well, a reciprocated one), the family dynamic of Team Free Will was horribly broken up with no emotional coherence or catharsis, and most of this seems to be a poorly written excuse to have the two brothers alone again. Oh, and also, Castiel is an incredibly tragic queer figure who spent the whole show suffering, dying, and serving the man he loved, and got sent to super-turbo-hell for it. And NONE of the dropped plot threads or emotional threads are gonna be picked back up, barring a miracle surprise appearance from Misha Collins in 15.20 - but even then, how do you excuse Jack walking out, and forgetting to bring Cas back to life? How do you excuse Dean suddenly giving up on Cas as soon as it’s possible to revive him again... what, because he’s gay for Dean now? How do you excuse any of it?

#ask #anonymous #spn spoilers #supernatural spoilers #anon really like 'only if you have time' and I'm like. an excuse to rant about this shitshow? you indulge me #boys I swear if I am wrong about next week you can all charge me $100 each in damages I will be so happy I won't care

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vitreousobsidian · 3 years

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How I’d fix the SPN finale (from a fan with 0 writing knowledge):

Cut out the 20th episode and make 15.19 longer

Before Jack leaves have Dean ask for Cas back. They reuinite

Sam runs back to Eileen and they have a sweet reunion.

Montage of Sam & Eileen quitting the life, getting married, having a family, etc. Basically what the finale did but make it ACTUALLY happy. (I mean, what’s this about Sam not being able to so much as touch the Impala’s wheel without having a breakdown years after Dean’s death??) He has the domestic dream he always wanted.

Meanwhile we get shots of Cas and Dean continuing to hunt and drive around in the Impala. No more ‘world ending’ enemies looming over their head. Just the two of them out on the road, werewolf here, ghost there. Just some good old fashion hunting, the kind of stuff Dean loves.

Ideally Dean and Cas are explicitly shown to be together but even under the assumption that the can’t have an overtly Bi Dean (which I mean... wtf it’s 2020 why not?) This could still work? And would be ambiguous enough to get past network restrictions? I’m just saying if the writers really wanted a queer couple in the show they would’ve found a way of doing it

Maybe add a few scenes of them visiting some side characters (ie Wayward Sisters) to tie in the whole ‘found family’ theme the show’s been so heavy handed with over the last 15 years instead of it just boiling down to ‘found family’s great but like, they’re not ACTUALLY family like Sam and Dean are so they’re not as important’

I get the writers didn’t want to have ‘any loose threads’ and wanted to keep as much ambiguity out of it as possible but that doesn’t make for a satisfying ending! Give us SOME ambiguity, let us imagine that these characters live out happy lives for years after the show’s end. Them being happy in Heaven is not the same thing

The dog can stay, he’s great.

My issues with the ACTUAL spn finale:

Couldn’t they just have invited people to Dean’s funeral? Like.... Did it really have to look SO lonely? Again for a show so bent on hammering home the theme of found family shouldn’t Dean’s funeral have had a bunch of people? Wayward sisters, alt. bobby, alt. charlie, garth, Jack....... Anyone? Nah it’s just Sam and the dog, glad to see that after years of 'finding family’ no one cares about Dean’s death except Sam and a dog he’s known for like a week and a half

Also you know what’s fucked up? Dean was by far the most affected out of all the characters upon finding out how much control Chuck had over everything he did. Like... It really fucked him up. So ok, God’s defeated and Dean finally has some autonomy. He can breathe easy, he’s won, he’s his own man and this time he’s sure of it. Wait, what’s that? He dies literally a WEEK LATER? Excuse me? You’re telling me all that trauma and existential crisis and he got a single week as a reward for coming out on top?

Also that whole Cas induced ‘i’m not a killer’ revelation kinda feels less impactful knowing it only lasts a few days and then he dies (admittedly this one’s just a bit nit-picky but I mean...)

Also idk but it just feels kinda wrong for Dean- a character who’s been repeatedly shown to have 0 regard for his own life and seems hell bent on sacrificing himself especially the last few seasons- to just die like that? I mean, if anything It seemed like he’d have to learn to value his own life as part of his greater story arc (you can kinda see echoes of it all the way back from S1). I guess this kinda ties in to the last point with the added weight that he only gets killed off once he accepts that he’s good, full of love and deserves to live. Idk especially with how many times Sam’s had to talk him off of ledges these past seasons it just feels kinda ghoulish to me.

To show us the Harvelle Roadhouse in heaven but make 0 reference to my girls Ellen and Jo is an actual crime and I will sue

Also why the hell was the vamp chick from S1 here? Like... what? I mean of all side characters to include (especially the one-off s1 background characters) why her? Honestly if you’d told me someone from S1 was getting brought back I’d’ve guessed Cassie but even then I don’t think the series finale is the right place to be like ‘hey remember THIS character?’ especially not when major characters like Cas get ZERO screen time

You know the worst part? It would’ve been so easy to make the ending good? Or at the very least ok? Like, with just 3 changes: [1] It’s made clear that Sam ends up with Eileen (I’m still not clear if that was her or some rando in the montage) [2] If they’d directed Jared in a way that presented Sam as happy or at the very least nostalgic instead of just horrible scarred for the rest of his life (I’m still so angry at that last Impala scene wtf) [3] If they’d just snuck Cas in to a single scene with Dean in heaven, even if it was hug I don’t think I’m asking for that much

Also I find it funny that the entirety of Sam’s life occurs over the span of a single drive. So what, a 20 minute walk and then Dean II shows up in heaven? They sit down for a burger and guess what? It’s Dean II’s kids! I just find it funny that lifetimes pass so quickly in heaven time, meaning that they’re just gonna be constantly flooded with new people all the time and never get anything done cause ‘Dad, I’d like you to meet your great great great great great-’

Maybe spend more than $0.03 on the aging prosthetics

Also didn’t Sam’s death feel kinda... off? I mean I’m gonna have to reiterate the whole lonely ending thing is weird in a show all about found family. Anyways the entire interaction between Sam and Dean II felt odd. Sam’s there, dying, by himself until Dean II walks in and, completely unprompted and without a trace of emotion, tells his dad that he can go ahead and die now. Couldn’t they have edited that scene so that it starts with Dean II already at his bedside? And I mean 0 disrespect to actor for Dean II (for all we know it could’ve been directed/written this way) but couldn’t he have been a bit more choked up about his dad dying? Like... Even a little?

#supernatural #15.20 #supernatural finale #spn #God it could've been great #Idk I've known spn was a pretty bad show for a while now #But it's like that one train wreck of a friend you know?#You still love them deeply and can't help but keep hoping for more and then getting brutally disappointed #Every time #But hey I guess this was the last great disappointment huh?#Quick show of hands whats the over-under on us getting new episodes 4 years from now a-la sherlock?#Asking for a friend

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akira-emberheart · 3 years

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songs I'd like to assign to the glee kids (part I)

Note: I'm pretty well known for making playlists and more playlists, and ever since seeing this post by @cracktastic about assigning, for the 100th episode, the least expected song to the least expected character, I've found myself craving to hear specific characters sing specific songs.

(I've also started another separate list to add on to that post I mentioned, but that will be a post for another day)

So after going through my music library, I came up with a small list of songs for each character that I would love to hear them sing, for various reasons, which i'll do my best to explain.

This got really long really fast, because I like to get into meta and over analyze - I'm also just very passionate about music. For that reason, I'll do 5 songs at a time for a specific character, and I'll be putting a read more.

Also, please be gentle with me - I've watched Glee a year ago, and it's entirely possible I may be missing or confusing scenes and storylines in my head. If I do, let me know!

If you read this and find yourself thinking of songs and scenarios as well, do share them with me! I'm working on actual Spotify Playlists as well.

So let's get into it -

for Kurt Hummel

> Re: Stacks by Bon Iver

"This is not the sound of a new man

or crispy realization

It's the sound of the unlocking and the lift away

Your love will be

Safe with me"

This is probably one of my favorite songs ever, and I first thought about it for Kurt after realising how beautiful his voice would sound in it, because of its crystal clear and poised quality. (I liked it so much I included it in a scene on my fanfic too).

If you don't know Bon Iver, or the history of this song, it's the last track in an album full of more..."depressing" songs. It's also the one that has a throughout tone of hope, of recovery after a hard ordeal, of taking some first steps to a better place.

I imagine it would be a good song for him around the time he meets Blaine - when the Karovsky situation is nearly over, and he starts looking back on his school year - Burt's heart attack, the bullying - and, now with Blaine in his life, and a renewed self confidence, he's finally able to confidently step into a better phase of his life and heal from all he went through.

I see this one being sung in a quiet moment of reflection, when he's alone. Maybe in the choir room, or even outdoors in a nice garden. In my fanfic I wrote it in a different context, in Blaine's room at night, so I guess that works in my head too.

***

> Enchanted by Taylor Swift

"I'm wonderstruck

Blushing all the way home

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you"

I'm very fascinated with Kurt's whole storyline in S2 - things start off so rough for him, but when Blaine comes along, and when Kurt is able to grow and shift more and assuming the person he really is, things start looking up. I chose this song for what it promises, and also because I can imagine it in Kurts lower singing register and it seems like a good one for him. Also, yes, I was a kid who owned Speak Now. Sue me.

This song is about first meeting someone very special, and that happens to be the beginning of Klaine. With the almost whispered lyrics, the slowly crescent ambiance and rhythm, it really encapsulates the feeling of everything stopping when you lay eyes in that one special person, and the flooding rush of emotions that happens right after.

Kurt had no idea how much an unsuspecting visit to a rival show coir school would change his life, even less in the midst of the situation he was in. It also seems fitting for Kurt and his early relationship with Blaine because of some specific lyrics ("This is me praying now / This was the very first page / Not where the storyline ends"). Enchanted tells the story of a special first meeting, and hints at something special to come, from the perspective of someone who is awestruck for someone.

Like the one above, this one would fit in early S2, possibly in EP6, after Kurt and Blaine's meeting at Dalton Academy. When he's back home, alone in his room, daydreaming, or when he's back at McKinley in that same afternoon.

***

> Gonna Get Over You by Sara Bareilles

"Oooh, how am I gonna get over you? I'll be alright, just not tonight But someday. Hey, I wish you'd want me to stay I'll be alright, just not tonight"

My main reason for choosing this one is because I think it fits very very well with Kurt's voice, and musical taste - its a very vibrant and poppy song, despite the more depressing theme - a post breakup promise of getting over it.

I first thought of it for S4, soon after the Breakup™, but paying close attention to the lyrics (I do tend to get stuck on just the melody sometimes), it makes more sense to place this on during the S6 Breakup - when Kurt finds out about Blaine dating Karovsky, after deciding he wants Blaine back.

So it's a hard situation for him, as we see from his breakdown in the bathroom (poor Kurt!), and he really has to come to terms with the mistakes he made (and the mistakes they both made as a couple), pick himself up, and move on.

I imagine this one being sung during an outing with Rachel, when she's trying to cheer him up and lift him up a little from his depression. My brain readily produces an image of a sunny street or a shopping mall that the two of them walk through, Kurt with some nice vivid colored clothes, finally being able to smile and ready to perhaps start moving on, or at least ready to start considering he will be okay.

***

> Killer Queen by Queen

"She keeps her Moet et Chandon

In her pretty cabinet

"Let them eat cake", she says

Just like Marie Antoinette"

This song just reminds me of Kurt. It's one of my all time favorites from Queen, and ever since watching Glee, these two are just connected in my mind. Voice wise, Kurt could definitely handle it.

It's apparently about a "high class prostitute"(? Freddie's word's, not mine), but still paints a pretty and dainty picture, and you can almost picture a porcelain faced lady in her best clothes, delicately smoking a cigarette. It also contains words that probably only Kurt can pronounce out of everyone in the glee club.

Many Queen songs were sung on Glee, but I don't think there was ever a Queen episode. For this one, I suggest a headcanon scenario, maybe during S3, when Mr. Shuester decides to have a Queen week - and Kurt isn't known for going with the obvious choices. He wants to be classy, edgy and impressive, and he sings in front of everyone, half in the choir room, half in the auditorium, perhaps with some fancy decoration and dancers behind him.

***

> The Answer by Kodaline

"You might think you found the one

Until your heart gets ripped and torn

Yeah, I used to feel bad, I used to feel like that

I still feel a bit like that"

This is another one that I picked immediately solely based on Kurt's voice - I really do like his voice with just a quiet, discrete instrumental. Looking into it further, I decided it could really work for Kurt's character.

I didn't go very deep into the intended meaning of the song, because it definitely has space for different interpretations. I choose to go with the breakup one. These lyrics here reminded me a little of the S4 breakup storyline - "We all fall down from the highest clouds / to the lowest ground" - makes me think how well Kurt's life was going once he arrived in New York, with the internship, his apartment situation with Rachel, a new and exciting place where he could freely be himself... and then he's completely blindsided by Blaine's cheating. He goes from being ecstatic and excited at Blaine's appearance, looking forward to share with him all the great things he just discovered, when Blaine's confession sends him to a well of despair, doubt and loneliness. The lyrics "You might think you found the one / until your heart gets ripped and torn" - reinforce the whole situation.

I can see him singing this not long after the breakup, on one more sleepless night, maybe walking alone through the streets of New York, or maybe in a montage of his busy daily routine, while he just gets through the day with a whole lot of emptiness weighing on his chest.

#glee #kurt hummel #glee meta #glee songs #klaine #klaine meta

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Pinky and the Brain: Brain’s Song Review or Why You Hatin on Bruce Willis? (Comissioned by BlahDiddy)

Hello, Hello, Hello you wonderful people! It’s back to the Animaniacs Cinematic Unvierse for some more pinky, pinky and the brain brain brain brain brain, as I still have those two christmas reviews left in the queue. And since I went over the ins and outs of the characters history last time, we can just get right to it.

We open in Acme Labs, where Brain, tired of pinky’s antics is trying to a clockwork orange him into being emotionless by having him watch some emotional stuff. We also get some good gags but as usual for coveirng this show I can’t stop and cover every one, but this is a damn funny episode Point is Brain tries showing him things like evil kenivel and prscilla presley’s dear john letter to micheal jackson.. this episode has not aged well in places and we will get to that. Point is Pinky’s already tearing up when we get to a pastiche of the lion king but with tigers, which naturally opens the flood gates.. but in a nice twist it’s for BOTH of them. Brain despite himself can’t help sobbing and leaning into his buddy and the two hug. awwww. Pinky tells him there’s no shame in it as “No one can resist emotionally manipulative story telling with a sad score.. except maybe g gordon liddy”.. I don’t get that last part, but the rest is really funny and naturally gives brain an idea: to make his OWN emotionally manipulative film. to make people so depressed they can’t do anything and wil lhand him the world. Making a supercut of bojack horseman’s gutpunching moments would be faster but neither supercuts nor that show exist yet so he’s left to instead write a pastiche of the movie Brian’s Song. Brian’s Song is a tv movie about football players Brian Picollo and Gale Sayers, two star football players in college. According to tv tropes the two start out as rivals, become friends, Picollo helps Sayers recover from an injury.. then Sayers stays by Picolllo’s side as he slowly subcumbs to cancer. I only vaugely remembered it from I love the 80s and that it made people sad. Look i’ll go to the moon and back for comissions, even ones given out as a gift, but I draw the line at watching an entire 70′s tv movie, even with the unstoppably cool Billy Dee Williams starring in it as Sayers. I have limits.. and a best episodes of the year list to work on/watch the last few episodes for. I gotta draw a line somewhere. That said.. this team knows how to do GOOD parody: i.e. you shoudln’t have to know the thing being parodied to get it, it just makes it even funnier. So while the Brian’s Song parody is lost on me, it still works as schmaltzy sports movies captalizing on real life events never died. SOMEHOW. Please stop hollywood, please, I know i’m not a sports guy but even that aside we don’t need any more. Or if your not going to at least give us a revivial of friday night lights. That’s how you make me care about sports. SO it still works well. What dosen’t is most of the next bit, where our boys head off to hollywood. And look some bits are really funny: Brain having a rat tail and goatee

Don’t ask me why, pinky, who weirdly dosen’t have his own mechanical human suit, as his agent, it’s good. And what’s GREAT is the two pitching the film to tom hanks, the nicest guy in hollywood, only for him to throw a tantrum and demand they call him lord ruler. Given Hanks is STILL the nicest guy in hollywood to this day.. the joke is sitll hilarious, helped by the fact he’s one of my mom’s faviorite actors, so i’ve grown up with the guy my whole life. Love the guy genuinely great stuff, easily on par with that bit from the simpsons movie. But the issue is.. that’s the ONLY funny gag for the next three minutes, as Brain pitches it to bruce wilis, who is on board till demi reminds him he has to watch the kids and stuff. GET IT BECAUSE HE’S A FAMILY MAN... LAUGH, LAUGH AT HIM BEING A RESPONSIBLE AND LOVING PARENT LAUGGGHGHHH. Seriously Bruce Williams is awesome what the hell man. It gets no better as we get an unfunny montage of eveyrone turning down brain including Donny Most, as he just rose from the haze

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Sunday Monday, happy days. Point is that one bit was funnier than the handful of minutes of my life i’m not getting back. Seriously a fourth of the episode is wasted on thiis and the bruce willis bit combined. Why. The ONLY funny part is the ending where they get rejected by vanilla ice.. which is only funny now because he’s since made a small career in film showing up in Adam Sandler films, so his threshold for being in shit films is low. Then again his musical talent took a steep decline.. yes it somehow got worse.

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Just in case you think I was bullshitting you. Point is no one will star in Brain’s film or help fund it so he decides to go full wiseau and make it himself. So our heroes head home and we get some great bits in how they put it together. Brain INTENDS for Meadowlark Lemon, who I somehow knew was a Harlem Globetrotter, and who Brain taught to play his sidekick.. but he backs out so PInky gets the part afterall. Why? I don’t know.. seriously the joke dosen’t even remotely synch up. The only things he and bill dee share are being black and if that’s the reason they wanted to shove a globetrotter in this...

Yeah. Thankfully we’re past the poorly aged bits of this as the rest of the episode .. is just nonstop hilarity. There’s just too many jokes to go over, but some of hte best include: Brain’s hairpiece, mimicing Jame’s Caan, which is made of lint, Pinky having to wear stilts for one scene, using a treadmill to mimic walking, pinky finding great sets by raiding the garage finding a barbie playset for the hospital room and a game of electric football for the field. Huh I think ken burns made a documentary on that once.

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That’s also the only reason I know what Electric Football is.. also how did pinky carry all of that. Questions for later. Point is it’s just one clever gag after the next and you really DON’T need to know Brian’s Song to find this uproriously hilarious. Our heroes also flim it live, hyjacking the airwaves not to offer wishes but to air the film. Again the film is just one long string of great gags, no question so I’m not recapping it. But it works and the world leaders are too bummed out to do anything. Insert your own 2020 joke here. But in a nice chekovs callback Brain sustained injuries being on the electric football set, so he vibrates at inportune times, thus causing everyone to laugh, foiling his plan> It’s a great payoff and I do like how, as I mentioned in my last pinky and the brain review, it’s often Brain’s own fault and not ALWAYS just “pinky screws up” like I remembered. Here his insitance on doing the scene again and again depsite the risk and not acknowlding his pain screws him over.

Final Thoughts; This is a pretty good episode. Despite the down spot the last half of it is just so damn funny, again I coudln’t properly recap it because it was just one long string of great jokes and set pieces, and trasncends the film i’ts parodying. Worth a watch if you have hulu just fast forward a bit after the tom hanks bit. Also that was Dave Colier, aka terrible replacment venkman aka uncle joey aka that guy who somehow had sex with alanis morsette but is probably not the one that song is about. It was about Alf, wake up people. And for now I bid you all goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

#pinky and the brain #pinky #the brain #maurice lamarche #rob paulsen #brain's song #football #bruce willis #vanillia ice #tom hanks #brian's song

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 4 years

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Peaches and a tyrannical sea

(I decided to play around with this prompt, trying to make the story not overly contrived. I’m not sure I succeeded at that 😂, but it was SO fun to write what I imagine of young Hayffie 💕. I became a bit addicted to this fic, and I didn’t know when, where, or how to stop. Plus, I discovered a path to joy through writing dialogue for Caesar Flickerman, and who can resist a path to joy? So this story got long, probably the longest one-shot I’ve ever written, and if you read all the way through to the end, then I’m in awe of your stamina and devotion to THG/Hayffie crack.)

Category 5 “Hurricane Cronus” hit the coast of District 11 less than a month after the 60th Hunger Games, right in the middle of the summer harvest.

Being inland, the Victors’ Village was barely touched, but Chaff’s hometown was destroyed. Every shack collapsed, and every citizen who couldn’t get to higher ground perished.

The Capitol projected the fallen into the night sky with lights and music. 24 decimated crops: apples, beans, blueberries, cabbage, cantaloupes, eggplant, figs, gooseberries, grapes, herbs, kale, muscadines, nectarines, okra, peaches, pears, peppers, potatoes, raspberries, summer squash, corn, tomatoes, and watermelon.

Montages on screens throughout Panem showed flooded fields, flattened plants, and broken orchards. The images were accompanied by the voice of Caesar Flickerman, thick with serious tones. “Cronus, Titan of the Harvest, has unleashed His wrath upon Panem. But through the strength of the Capitol, we will replant. We will rebuild.”

Haymitch hurled a half-empty liquor bottle at the screen in the Hob, nicking the corner and leaving a crack. If he’d been more sober, he would’ve nailed Caesar in the face.

“You’d better be careful, honey,” Greasy Sae warned him. “They can still find ways to hurt you.”

“I doubt that.”

The older woman knew Haymitch well enough to not touch him when he was angry, but she soothed with her voice.

“Is that friend of yours okay? ...The one in 11.”

Over the past decade, Chaff had become a lifeline for Haymitch. His companionship through each Games was effectively an antidote to alcohol poisoning. If Chaff didn’t drink more than his share, then Haymitch probably would have had cirrhosis of the liver before age 26. His buddy always managed to bring some laughter into the atrocities of mentorship.

Sae was right. Haymitch still had people to lose. The Capitol could still hurt him. They would keep on hurting him if he didn’t feign indifference. And throwing a bottle at the screen showed the opposite of indifference.

“He’s okay.”

Sae offered a smile. “Good. That’s good, boy. From the way the Peacekepers are talking, it sounds like there’s been a lot of death. At least a thousand with the count rising. Some people got no fresh water to drink.”

“And the Capitol eulogizes crops.”

“It ain’t right. That’s for sure.”

Haymitch wasn’t drunk enough to face this conversation. And he was pissed about having thrown away the rest of his liquor.

“Can I offer you a bowl of beef stew? ...It’s on the house,” Sae added.

Normally Haymitch wouldn’t turn down a free supper, but the mystery meats that Greasy Sae served up under the name of “beef” sometimes turned his stomach.

“Not hungry,” he lied, “But thanks for the offer.”

“You take care, honey.” Her face fell as she watched Haymitch walk away to buy more booze.

***

The Capitol was abuzz with excitement about the fundraising event planned for hurricane relief. Replanting and rebuilding would come at a cost, and an auction was an opportunity for the wealthy to show off the depths of their family pockets.

“‘Picnic with a Victor’ is the promotional title,” Claudius Templesmith announced on screens throughout Panem.

“Sunshine... a day in Capitol Park... by the water...” Caesar responded with a neon white smile and a slap to his knee. “I LOVE it!”

Seated side-by-side in red velvet chairs, the two bantered back and forth about event details.

“The baskets will be stocked with delicacies prepared by the Capitol’s finest chefs, and made from crops harvested before Cronus hit our very own District 11.”

“Claudius, I’ve heard whispers that the picnics will include artesian wines made, not from grapes, but from muscadines.”

“Ah, muscadines! Amazing and desired for their incredible super-fruit properties.”

“Sweet, aromatic, and native to District 11. A truly unique Panem experience and proudly exported across the globe.”

“Caesar, do we know yet which victors have volunteered to picnic with the highest bidders?”

“Well, we’ve been trying to keep that, shall we say, under wraps, but if you twist my arm, I might be able to let out some hints.”

“Well then consider yourself twisted!”

“Ha HA, you know me so well!! And ouch, not so hard!” The two of them filled the airwaves with hysterial laughter.

“Seriously now. Let’s tell them.”

A drumroll began off camera as Caesar and Claudius took turns dramatically listing off numbers of the Games of the participating victors.

Effie was listening with mild disinterest until Caesar said “50.” When he said “50,” she knew her life was about to change. She was bound and determined to MAKE it change.

***

“Mother, Daddy, this is an excellent opportunity to be noticed, not just by society but by the professors who will be influencing my education and future career opportunities,” Effie lobbied hard to bid in the auction. At 18 years old, her parents’ permission was not as deep of a concern for her as their financial backing.

An afternoon with Haymitch Abernathy would draw a price. He was reclusive and young, but not young enough to deter the interests of wealthy older women, and men for that matter.

Effie would have competition in the bidding. She was certain about that in the same way that she knew wigs would be all the rage in a few years. Some things an observant and savvy woman simply KNOWS, and Effie considered herself to be both observant and savvy.

She’d inherited money from her great-grandmother, but she could keep that in savings accruing interest if her parents would back her now.

“Which victor will you bid to picnic with?” her mother asked.

“I’ll decide based on the way they present themselves on stage,” Effie answered evasively. “I want an investment which reflects positively on our family.”

“You need to be careful,” her father insisted, “Alto made such a showing in the Games last year that he’ll surely draw a high price, probably more than we can afford. Whoever you bid on, you need to win.”

“I’ll judge by applause and whispers in the crowd. I’ll be discerning; I won’t bid if I can’t win. ...Daddy, do I EVER lose?” Effie glanced between her parents without a single blink of her false purple eyelashes.

When her father blinked, she knew she had their support. “Your budget is $5000. Invest wisely.”

Effie would not be deterred by the limits of her parents’ generosity. Haymitch would be hers for the afternoon, no matter the cost. She’d imagined a connection with him for too long to let this opportunity slip through her fingers. Her classmate, Fulvia Cardew, would help. She was sympathetic to Effie’s interests, and with extended family in banking, Fluvia had deeper pockets than the president.

***

Haymitch would’ve almost preferred death over participation in the *dog and pony show* that this fundraiser was sure to be. Except Chaff had confided in him details of how badly the coast of District 11 had been wiped out. Since the Capitol depended on 11 to literally feed the lavish lifestyle of its citizens, then money raised would be of some help to the people of district. The Capitol needed workers alive, and for people to be stay alive to work they required basic shelter, drinkable water, and rations of food. Since Cronus, many towns in 11 lacked most essential survival needs.

Haymitch took pleasure in imagining Snow in fear about where his next meal would be coming from. Though he knew the tyrant would be the LAST person in Panem to go hungry. It would never come to that. Surely a traitor in his inner circle would slaughter that pig and eat him before either of them starved. The traitor would probably die afterward from the poison in Snow’s veins. Haymitch would have taken pleasure in all of that imagery too if it didn’t make him want to vomit.

August was warm in the Capitol. Late afternoon temperatures usually reached high into the 80s. So the auction was set for morning with the victory picnics beneath shade trees by the lake. An elaborate system of misters had been rigged up throughout the covered amphitheater and the Capitol Park.

Oh, the *horror* if one of these hoity-toity Capitol people should melt in the sunshine before the bidding even started. Haymitch had the thought, but the misters actually felt great by mid-morning when the participating victors were called on stage one-by-one for their interviews with Caesar, who was functioning as Master of Ceremonies.

Caesar introduced each of them to the audience by name, number of their district, and number of their Games. Each victor had been directed the night before to memorize a brief script about what moved them to volunteer for the fundraiser. The script Haymitch had been given included a ridiculous ode to peach trees.

He had let himself be dressed up for the event. He’d even let them trim his hair and shave his face. He’d get up on that stage mostly sober. He would smile and let himself be auctioned off to the highest bidder. But there was no way in hell he was going to eulogize peaches when nearly every person in his best friend’s hometown was a corpse.

He had a flash of the Seam and the dead bodies of his loved ones, poisoned. That was 10 years ago, and the flashbacks still came to haunt him with pale faces. In earlier more innocent times, he and his brother had found a peach tree while exploring north in the district. That was in the days of fewer Peacekepers and fewer questions about destinations. His brother picked two peaches, one for each of them. The flavor, texture, and color were unlike anything Haymitch had experienced before. That peach was full of dualities: sweet and tart, uncomfortable skin yet soothing flesh, solid and juicy. Yellow and red swirled on his tongue.

He thought of that peach years later when he had sex with his girlfriend the night before the Reaping. HIS Reaping. She felt like that peach when he came inside her. So tender. It was his first time. A few weeks later she was a ghost.

Haymitch shivered under the misters, waiting like livestock in line for slaughter. He needed a drink, badly, but if not for sobriety, then in lieu of delivering an ode to the fruit, he might inadvertently describe making love with the girlfriend murdered by Snow.

That conversation would not only get him killed, but would get him the wrong type of bidders. He was a volunteer today, not a prostitute. This commitment did not carry over from afternoon into evening. He would not be fucking the fool willing to pay hundreds of dollars for his company, some food, and a hill-billy-red-neck bottle of wine.

...Except for maybe HER, he thought as he scanned the paddle holders in the crowd. That girl with blonde hair. He’d fuck somebody like her, all soft and shit, dressed up in clothes and makeup that made her look older than she probably was.

***

“He’s looking at you,” Fulvia whispered to Effie, “He’s been staring at you for at least a minute.”

Of course he’s looking at me. Have you seen me today? Effie thought. Manners prevented her from praising herself out loud.

She met Haymitch’s gaze and offered him a controlled smile, warm but not flashy. I see you, was what she wanted to communicate for now. The rest could wait until after she won the bid.

Their eye contact broke when someone poked Haymitch in the back. Caesar had called him onstage, “Winner of the 50th Hunger Games, from District 12, Haymitch Abernathy!” While eye-fucking with her, he’d missed his cue.

Effie watched him saunter over to Caesar, as if things like cues and pace were irrelevant. He relaxed into the chair with his knees slightly splayed, like he and Caesar were old friends meeting at a bar. Effie half-expected Haymitch to call out for a server to bring them drinks. Maybe he and Caesar actually WERE friends. She knew nearly nothing of the life of a victor.

“Haymitch...” Caesar began, “It’s a rare treat to have you here, the victor of a Quarter Quell.” Then to the audience he added, “Isn’t this exciting!!”

The audience cheered wildly. They’d been served pink champagne all morning in an effort to up the bidding. A few people were already raising their paddles. Effie held hers firmly by her side. Patience. Control, she told herself. She would not appear too eager. With this event televised throughout Panem, her every move was a reflection on herself and her family.

“Now, hold on, ladies and gentlemen,” Caesar continued, “Let’s allow this young man to introduce himself.”

Effie liked the way Caesar called him young. Over the past several years, Haymitch’s shoulders had broadened and his body had filled into its frame. His eyes sunk deeper with each Games, but his face was still boyish. She still saw in him the kid who held Maysilee’s hand as she died.

“What inspired you to volunteer to be here today?” Caesar asked gravely.

Haymitch pushed his hair back from his eyes, and spoke not to Caesar, but to the cameras, to all of Panem.

“I have friends in 11.” He thought of Chaff and Seeder. “They grew up there climbing trees in the orchards. Kids are light enough to reach the fruit at the top, so they climb a lot and grow strong — but not as strong as a tyrannical sea...

“...I ate a peach once. The kid who picked it is gone now. I couldn’t save him, and I couldn’t save those kids in 11 either who were flattened under the walls of their own houses. When you’re a scared kid, you run home.” He looked straight at Effie, and in that moment she felt the weight of so much she didn’t understand.

“...But sometimes home is the least safe place to be. I’m here today to help raise money so the families that survived Cronus can have shelter, fresh water, and food again.”

Caesar was as stunned into silence as the crowd.

Haymitch quickly added from the script that he’d ripped up the night before, “...So they can replant and rebuild through the generosity of the Capitol.” He skipped the ‘Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever’ victory tour-style bullshit.

“And replant and rebuild they shall.” Caesar’s gloom rapidly up-shifted to elation. “...Am I right, folks?!”

The crowd broke into thunderous applause, and the bidding for a picnic with Haymitch began.

“Shit...” Fulvia muttered, “After that speech, he’s going to cost a fortune.”

“Language!” Effie chastised her lightly, “We’re all on the monitors.”

“Well, he will. How much do you have?”

“$5000 plus the money my Nana left me, but I’m hoping to save as much as I can of that for after University.”

“Let’s see if that’s enough.”

Effie pressed her paddle to the side of her skirt. Her hands were shaking. She watched the bidding go back and forth between several individuals, with Caesar raising the amount in $100 increments, as he had with the other victors.

Most of the bidders eventually fell away, and a battle commenced between two women Effie didn’t recognize. Fluvia knew them through her family’s social circle.

“The short one’s divorced. The other is widowed. Her husband died last year of a heart attack while screwing his secretary. Both of their investments are shit right now.”

“Once again, language! ...And thank you for the information.”

“Let them tire each other out, and then jump in.”

When Caesar said, “$4500. Do I hear $4600? No? $4500 going once...” Effie raised her paddle as high as she could reach. Since she was wearing 5 inch heels, her bid couldn’t be missed.

“$4600 it is! Do I hear $4700?...”

The bidding continued between Effie and the widow. Effie selfishly hoped the dead deadbeat husband hadn’t left her with millions in insurance money that Fluvia knew nothing about.

$4800... $4900... $5000... “I am absolutely thrilled! Are you thrilled!?” Caeser chimed in, and the audience cheered again.

Effie refused to be distracted. She didn’t look at the audience or the widow or Fluvia or even Caesar. Just Haymitch. Just those sunken eyes that had seen things she wanted to understand. She didn’t dare glance at his mouth. Patience. Control. She needed to stay on task.

She kept her paddle up now, trying to intimidate the widow, wanting her to think that Effie was bidding with all the money in the world, rather than an allowance from her parents and her personal savings.

The widow took the bid to $5100, but Effie refused to let go. She kept her paddle up, dipping now into the money from her great-grandmother. Nana would approve of this investment, Effie justified. Because this is an investment in ME.

Effie kept her paddle raised as the widow volleyed with her until Effie had the bid at $7000. The widow glared at Effie whose eyes stayed fixed on Haymitch. Fluvia, however, flashed the widow a wry smile and waggled her fingers in a clear message... This girl is with me, Fluvia Cardew, of the multi-millionaire Cardews. We own the banks, honey, and we’re not backing down. You’re wasting your time.

“Do I hear $7100? No? $7000 going once... going twice... and the picnic is sold! Congratulations to the winner! Ms...” Caesar glanced at the monitor which matched her paddle number to her name, “...Effie Trinket!”

Everyone cheered except for the widow, the divorcee, and a handful of earlier competitors. Fluvia embraced Effie, pressing a plump silver-flower-tattooed cheek to Effie’s flushed one. “Holy shit! You did it.”

Effie didn’t bother to chastise this time about language. Her hands were steady now, but the rest of her body was shaking.

***

Haymitch knew he wouldn’t forget the intensity in those blue eyes for as long as he lived. A tyrannical sea was nothing compared to this girl. He shook Caesar’s extended hand and then left the stage to gather with the other chosen victors as the bidding continued for the rest.

“$7000 for lunch with me?” He uttered with incredulity. “Capitol people! That girl isn’t a fool though. She was stoic as fuck. What’s her motivation?”

“She wants more than lunch.” Chaff clapped him on the shoulder and left the pressure of his hand there to emphasize a point. “I saw you two eying each other before you even went on stage. I know she’s hot, man, but she’s jailbait. Maybe she’s technically legal, since she was bidding and all. But if you touch that girl, I guarantee her father will hunt you down for his own picnic, and he’ll hand you your ass on a platter.”

“I wasn’t thinking about touching her. I was thinking about 11 and the goddamn script and peaches...”

Chaff lifted his eyebrows, and Haymitch lowered his voice to confess.

“...And now I’m thinking about eating peaches off her body. Jesus Christ. Did you see her out there?! Who is Effie Trinket?”

“I don’t know, but you’ll find out soon.”

***

Effie had spent her entire life rehearsing the practice of patience and control. She wore those manners as masks while the auction continued and the sun climbed the sky. She didn’t let her guard down, even as the cameras moved on to other bidders and winners. She could credit the heat with flushing her cheeks. No one would notice her shaking, except maybe Fluvia, but her friend wouldn’t make a big deal of it. Effie applauded when the audience applauded. She declared, “Wonderful!” with each sum of money raised.

Inside herself she was a cyclone of insanity with a pounding heart, feeling everything but patience and control.

When the auction was finished, she made her donation through a system of direct withdrawal from her bank account. Sometime between her winning the bid and making payment, her parents had transferred an additional $2000; therefore, she wouldn’t need to dip into her savings today. OF COURSE they did. There would have been nothing more embarrassing for the Trinkets than their daughter coming up short financially in such a public way. Then again, her inheritance from Nana wasn’t a secret, so maybe they simply saw wisdom in Effie’s investment.

When the donation was complete, an official escorted her across the Capitol Park lawn to her picnic. Haymitch was sitting on a shaded blanket with his back against a tree and his legs out straight, crossed at the knees. His pants were rolled half-way up his shins, and his shirt sleeves to his elbows. His tie draped over the back of his neck, the buttons of his vest were unhooked, and his shoes and socks were off.

He watched her approach and didn’t stand up to greet her. This would have miffed Effie if he didn’t look so good sitting there, casual, like with Caesar on stage, as if she was a friend he was waiting for before ordering drinks rather than a stranger who just paid thousands of dollars to have lunch with him.

“You’ve come undone,” she said, as she kneeled across from him on the blanket, just close enough to reach out and touch.

“Not yet, sweetheart. Me undone is not such a pretty sight.”

She mulled over his words, and chose hers carefully, “We’ll see about that.”

She held out her hand, covered from wrist to knuckles in lace gloves woven with golden thread. “I’m Effie.”

Haymitch consided his options. He could shake her hand. He could hold her fingers and kiss her knuckles. Or maybe...

He leaned forward and slipped his fingertips beneath the lace at her wrist and peeled off her glove slowly enough for her to object, but she didn’t.

She liked the way he did it, gently and without asking. His hands were uncaloused. The touch was soft along her skin.

He laid her glove on the blanket between them and captured her hand between both of his. “Haymitch,” he said.

“I...” She could feel her cheeks blazing and made a mental note to wear more layers of makeup in the future to prevent her feelings from being so readily exposed. “...I’m pleased to meet you.”

“I can see that,” he chuckled. “These picnics are being televised. Is your father watching?”

“Possibly. ...Act chivalrous.” She presented her other hand, which he divested of its glove in the same manner as the first.

“I don’t ACT, sweetheart.” He whispered, “Chivalry isn’t what I have in mind when I take off a woman’s clothes.” Shit. He was flirting with this girl, and he MEANT it. She was lighting him up like crazy.

Effie thrilled at the thought of him regarding her as a woman. She had wondered if her youth might prevent him from perceiving her as she was.

“And chivalry isn’t what I’m thinking about when a man takes off my clothes,” she whispered back.

He recognized that despite the differences in their ages, she possibly had more experience with nakedness than he did. He found himself picturing her that way. wondering what shape her breasts would take when not fashioned by the stays of a corset. Would they be soft, like her hands?

“My eyes are up here, Haymitch.”

This girl was bossy beyond her years. Either she was precocious or a bitch or both. He didn’t know yet. Whatever it was, he was amused and turned on, especially after imagining her breasts in his hands. How did this turn personal so quickly? This Effie was a Siren. He would need to be cautious.

“I was just wondering where’s your school uniform?” He teased her, subtly inquiring about her age.

“Burned! I’m attending University.” She was vague about her age with intention.

Too bad, Haymitch thought. He wouldn’t mind seeing her in one of those pleated Academy skirts.

“Thirsty?” The wine was uncorked and chilling in a bucket of melting ice.

Effie nodded, eager to be just a bit drunk with him. Not too much, but enough to let go of a modicum of tight control.

Haymitch had been sober all morning. This girl had been a welcome distraction from craving, but he was salivating now in anticipation of a drink, even if it was just muscadine wine. Stemmed glassware for a picnic was Capitol nonsense. He was tempted to drink straight from the bottle and pass it to her to do the same, but he resisted. He set the goblets on the breadboard and filled them. The wine was the color of crushed plums.

Effie curled her legs to the side and relaxed onto the blanket. She unzipped her boots and slipped them off along with knee-high stockings. “When in Rome...“ she said as Haymitch stared at her bare calves and feet.

“Let’s drink to that.”

She swirled the wine in her glass before clinking his. “And what else did the Romans do — besides picnic in bare feet?” she asked after a sip.

He drank the contents of the goblet in one swallow. He wouldn’t hide who he was, not from this girl or anyone else. “The Romans were into self-indulgence.”

She followed his lead and swallowed half the wine in her glass. “Satisfying one’s desires, pleasures, lusts, and whims without restraint?”

Capitol parties, he thought, wondering if she was old enough yet to take part in that life.

“A lot of that happens here...”

He admired her for being aware of at least that much.

She lowered her voice. “Except in the House of Trinket, where the only *indulgence* encouraged is in perfecting oneself.”

He took another look at her in light of that personal information. Her long blonde hair swooped over her forehead and trailed down her back in immaculate soft curls. Not one hair was out of place, even with misters and fans blowing at a summer picnic.

“Is there much self-indulgence in District 12?” she asked.

Clearly an Academy education didn’t teach much about the real world. “Only in the *House of Abernathy.*” He refilled their goblets and drank more slowly this time.

“Are you mocking me?” she asked straight-up.

His tone had indeed been mocking, and he hadn’t really meant for it to be. He liked this girl, and he wouldn’t judge her for things she’d never seen or heard before.

“I’m mocking my own reality, sweetheart. ...You know how many victors live in 12.”

“Only you...” She didn’t know what that meant for him other than the words sounded lonely. Victors were celebrities here in the Capitol. Maybe it wasn’t like that in the districts. Maybe... “Are you alone?” she asked, “In the *House of Abernathy*...”

What to say to her? She surely didn’t pay all that money to spend an afternoon listening to his sad stories. Though something about her made him want to speak openly in the way he told the cameras about 11. Something about her made him want her to know the truths of the world, while her mind was still supple like her skin.

“I’m not alone today, not here,” was his answer. Evasive, yet true.

She watched his mouth say the words. His lips were lightly stained by the wine. Effie had never wanted to kiss a person so badly in her life. “Haymitch...” She touched him instead, caressing tanned skin and fine hair just beneath the rolled up hem of his pant leg.

She felt so good; he closed his eyes for a moment. Then they shot open. Chaff was right. If he wasn’t careful, this girl would be his downfall. “Effie... the cameras...”

It was the first time she heard him say her name. She smiled and reluctantly withdrew her hand. “Are you hungry?”

That question was safer to answer, but barely. “What’s in the basket?”

Effie took out one item at a time: Steak sandwiches with melted cheese on dark crescent-shaped rolls dotted with seeds, the signature bread from district 11... A warm succotash of corn, shelled green beans, diced potatoes and summer squash, tomatoes, multi-colored sweet peppers and okra... And for dessert an apple pie, plus sliced peaches in a jar full of honey. The latter inspired Haymitch to revisit his daydream from earlier. The honey only added to the fantasy.

This one basket contained more food than an entire family from District 11 or 12 would eat in a week or more. Should he mention that in response to her earlier question about self-indulgence? Maybe later. For now he’d rather be with her in the fantasy.

“A $7000 picnic. Is it what you were hoping for?”

“Let’s taste everything and find out.”

As they ate and drank, their questions for one another grew more intimate.

“I always watch for you among the victors at these events, but I’ve never seen you do this kind of thing before.”

“You watch for me?” He grinned. “HOW LONG have you been watching me?”

“Long enough to know you’ve never done this kind of thing before.”

“I don’t do these kinds of things because I don’t like feeling like livestock... or a hooker.”

Effie gasped. “Haymitch, I wouldn’t! I’ve thought about you a long time. This isn’t a passing fancy. My interest is too marked to pretend I’m not pursuing you. But I’d never expect you to...” She lowered her voice to a murmur. “I didn’t invest that money so you would... fuck me.”

...I want more than that, she didn’t say.

...I’d fuck you in a heartbeat if these cameras and people would disappear, he didn’t say, but he’d decided it this morning the first moment he saw her.

He grazed her pinky with his, liking the idea of her *pursuing* him, whether or not her efforts were misguided. “HOW LONG?” he pressed,

“This feels like confession.”

“Sweetheart, I ain’t a priest. I just want to know you.”

Effie released a long sigh of feelings she’d been holding in forever. “10 years.”

“Shit. Since the Games?! You were just a kid.” You’re still just a kid. ...Only she wasn’t.

“I sat for an hour every day for years as my mother wove pink ribbons into my hair. In the stillness I thought a lot about the boy who separated from his friend in the Games so they wouldn’t have to kill each other — the boy who held her hand so she wouldn’t have to die alone. I watched you grow up in my mind more than anyplace else.”

Her honesty deserved his in response. “That boy is gone. It’s just me now... a man who drinks in order to try to sleep through nightmares — a man who goes to bed alone so I don’t accidentally slit anybody’s throat. ...It may not be what you paid all that money to get to know about me, but it’s the truth.”

Effie was stunned into silence and sympathy. She felt pity for him now, and she didn’t want to. There were some realities she wasn’t quite ready to face. His description wasn’t what she imagined the life of a victor should be.

She wore masks well, but he could see the change in her expression, and he didn’t like it. Pity, especially from a Capitol girl, was the last thing he wanted. But better that than her wasting her life dreaming about somebody who isn’t even real.

“Why DID you come here today? Beyond what you told Caesar.”

“One of those friends I mentioned in 11 — well, the hurricane flattened his hometown. Hundreds of people died, and the survivors have nothing, honey.”

“HUNDREDS of people died?”

“Over a thousand.”

“Why did the news show only crops?”

“That’s for you to figure out. I don’t expect they’re gonna teach you that at University.”

More sympathy crept over Effie. She was overwhelmed and started shivering like during the bidding.

Haymitch wasn’t sure what to offer her. She was so close to still being a kid herself. But with the face and body and guts of a goddess.

“Do you want to get out from under these misters and walk down to the water? We could pack the food away and eat more later. If we just have this one day...” He didn’t finish the thought. This day was hers. He’d let her fill it in anyway she wanted.

“We’ll have more than this one day. Every fiber in my being tells me we will.”

There was no point in arguing with so much gumption. He stood up and held out his hand. She grasped it, and he pulled her up. They walked barefoot through the grass, then ran across the beach to the water’s edge where the damp sand cooled the soles of their feet.

The lake lapped at Effie’s toes and she scribbled in the sand with one. How many times in adolescence had she come to this spot and written “Effie Abernathy” over and over again, dotting each “i” with a heart? Had she been a fool?

“There’s a lake near 12. It’s a secret spot. My brother and I used to sneak there as kids and swim naked so we wouldn’t have to hike back home in wet clothes.”

Now she was picturing Haymitch naked. And wanting him naked, regardless of his drinking and nightmares and sleeping with knives — and regardless of what she said she didn’t expect from him. She’d been with boys, plenty of boys, but he was a man, and she was so curious about the way he would fill her.

Effie cleared her throat of unspoken longing and pedaled backward in the conversation. “You have a brother...”

“I had a brother then. ...He died a couple of weeks after the Quarter Quell.”

She brushed her fingers against his, wishing she could offer more, but the cameras were on them. “I’m sorry,” she said in reference to everything.

“It was a long time ago.”

“You must miss him.”

Haymitch nodded. “He’s more free dead than alive. It’s a small comfort.”

Effie wanted to understand. She just didn’t.

“My great-grandmother died too shortly after your Games...”

District 12 is in your future, dear, Nana had said. And that boy is an important part of it. Effie dwelled a moment in silent memory before confessing more.

“...She told me you’d be in my future.”

Haymitch had no faith in fortune telling wishes and dreams. He usually flipped people off who tried to tell him how the future would be. The shit he’d been through was unfathomable. How could anyone predict anything but more horror.

“That said, Nana was a bit eccentric in the end.” Effie smiled wistfully.

“You still miss her...”

“Every day. Unconditional love is a rare gift.”

“Do you think her *prediction* was just eccentricity?”

“It was a long time ago, but I remember how certain she was.”

“How can anyone be certain about anything in this world?”

Effie considered his question. “Did you know I would win the bid today?”

Haymitch thought of that drawn out moment with her eyes on him and her paddle in the air. “Yes.”

“How did you know?”

“I saw it in your eyes... Determination, and this... wild control.”

“Maybe that’s how my Nana knew.”

“She saw our future in your eyes?”

He said ‘our future’ like it was almost fated. Maybe it was a slip, but Effie wouldn’t ignore it.

“I didn’t ask her. And then it was too late to ask her.”

She gazed down at the sand, and the tips of her long purple eyelashes touched her cheeks. They were the same color as her skirt which loosely hugged her curves then flared at mid-thigh. The hem brushed her knees as she moved. She reminded him of the violets that bloom in 12 after the snow melts. Birdfoot Violets his mother used to call them. He smiled at the name, watching Effie’s toes curl in the sand.

When she looked up at him, her eyes reflected the water, the sky, and intensities of her own. Haymitch had never wanted to kiss a person so badly in his life.

“Later, when these cameras are gone, do you want to go somewhere together?” she asked.

“Cameras are never gone. They’re always watching, even when you least expect them to be. He recalled Greasy Sae’s warning, “You’d better be careful. They can still find ways to hurt you.”

He’d been so preoccupied with thinking that Effie might be his downfall that he hadn’t considered the possibility that he could be HER downfall. Intensity crashed over him in waves. He hadn’t expected to feel any of this. Yet here it was.

Effie picked up a stick and started writing in the damp sand. To anyone at a distance it would look like play. ‘Cameras aren’t watching quite everywhere.’

He erased her note with his foot then took the stick and wrote, ‘Where would we go?’

Her turn to erase and write. ‘I know a bar. It’s just dark enough...’

‘When?’ He wrote.

‘Tonight?” ...She hesitated, then dotted the ‘i’ with a heart.

“You’re so young,” he said aloud, “You have your whole future ahead of you. I don’t want them to hurt you.”

“I hold my own. No one’s going to hurt me. ...Not even you, honey.”

He wanted to believe her. He erased the letters, leaving the heart for an instant, then brushed that away too. The word stuck in his throat. He could either swallow it or say it out loud.

“Tonight,” he whispered, “...And bring the jar of peaches — in case this afternoon isn’t enough.”

#hayffie #hayffie fanfiction #effie x haymitch #haymitch x effie #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #chaff #caesar flickerman #fluvia cardew #thg #thg fanfiction #hunger games #the hunger games #claudius templesmith #greasy sae #the capitol #HayffieFics

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huntsman-ash · 3 years

Text

LiveThoughts: RWBY V8E6

Second attempt at this since last time Chrome just DIED for no reason...

Im going to put literally the entire thing with Cinder under one note; Called it.

Its a great set of stuff, sure, but it doesnt relaly tell us anything we didnt already know about Cinder, and I personally feel it doesnt really explain why she turned out the way she did. I feel like we’ve had another weird twist of the situation again...M+K? Coronas fault? Who knows. Either way, this section isnt great by my taste and I kinda skipped most of it.

Few things to note though; Apperently in Mistral scrubbing by hand is still more viable floor cleaning tech than using Dust.

The wind vane on the roof has the Rooster Teeth symbols rooster on it.

The hotel Cinder is bought by is named the Glass Unicorn, fittingly enough for...several reasons.

The coffees behind the stepsisters when we first see them are the animated versions of the real life stuff RT put out just before this season went live.

No one seems to notice the fact cinder has orange eyes. I wonder if weird eye colors are just a THING in Remnant?

The control collar/shock thing is incredibly inefficient in design, since it doesnt actually hold on to her very well. A more effective brace/choker design would have worked better.

The song that goes on during all of this is...kind of obvious and a little bland? Fitting for younger Cinder I guess.

Mmm. Random greasy huntsman.

I guess in Atlas its fine to laugh at struggling teenagers?

Im going to assume there’s a 3+ year gap here where she gets older, cause she stops being smol and gets closer to how we see her now.

Also even here, in Atlas...really? The most effective way to clean these carpeted floors is to have a TEENAGER SCRUB THEM BY HAND?

How do you scrub...I assume its carpet anyway?

And how you tell civilians are lame in Atlas; they are impressed...by a sword. Just a sword. A boring, half-cut sword. Losers.

I assume this would be Cinder’s semblance manifesting. Also note on the desk; “we do not serve faunus”. Well THAT doesnt surprise me.

HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHE. Get fucked Cinder. HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE

I dont even feel pity for her, this is funny to me. Also the fact that this kind of shit aCTUALLY EXISTS is...amusing to me. Like, really? So I guess indentured servitude is a thing in Remnant too.

And this is why Cinder likes to use swords. Really. Wow. LAMEO.

Huh. Dual maces. Interesting. Thats a prety cool weapon. Looks like they open up too. Bet he could bash some skulls with that.

“Hurting them isnt going to make your life any better”. Um, excuse me? I think hurting them is the very best thing to do in this situation. At least, for the moment anyway.

Huh. So she’s ten at this point? Even as a child, shes older than she looks.

And training montage. Huh. Or at least I assume it is. I get the feeling being able to go where you want too and do what you want too is the main reason Hunters exist. There must be crazy tight immigration laws...or, maybe, its just that traveling between kingdoms is stupid dangerous cause of Grimm. I think the latter is most likely considering every form of public transit extra-kingdom we’ve seen (even between cities, see Argus Limited) has some kind of defensive weaponry. Limited and ineffective, for th emost part oddly.

So you can take the exam at 18. Okay cool. Pre-that must be prep school. Wonder what happens if you wash out? Also I like how this dude is just “yeah, 7 years of training, we got this.”

I think this is the first time we’ve seen the other side of the moon. Or at least, the proper other side...bloody hell I STILL dont know how all those piesces are still held in place, the thing looks like it should start yeeting bolides at Remnant.

Better still we see it MOVE, rotate in time to the passing of years. So it literally does rotate on its own axis, and more importantly, unlike OUR moon, its NOT tidally locked. We only ever see the same side of our moon. REmnants rotates MUCH faster. Also it doesnt seem to have phases like ours does. I’ll check on why that is.

Well at least we have an explanation for why Cinders so damn good at fighting people. Trained by an Atlas Huntsman.

Also as a note the device is quite literally just an electrical Dust crystal attached to a necklace. Things the most inefficent torture device Ive ever fucking seen.

Wonder how often they have to change the crystal.

And there goes the moon rotating again.

I like how NO ONE comment on the blade going missing and that guy never came back for it. I guess he must have just bought a new one.

I get the very distinct feeling they wont just let her go honestly, permission or not.

AWWW WE DONT EVEN GET TO SEE CINDER MURDER THE SISTERS. Also no blood. Odd. Good kill on the stepmother though. Oh, that NECK CRACK. I like how all the bitch can do is try and shock Cinder, like, uh...adrenaline up? SHE HAS A SWORD? MAYBE FIGHT BACK?

Hah. Weak ass fuckin Atlas people. Also the clock going off in the back ground twelve times. How fitting. Welcome to midnight.

Also shes kind of glowing here cause the room is dark, and I find it amusing this is probably the last time she wears white.

And THERES the Cinder we know

Sick ass music, cool. Also THAT is an interesting semblance...I guess he turns himself to metal? Also DAMN his aura broke after THAT? Hes a Huntsman...ah who cares. Again probably in Cinders memory more than anything. Which at this point is probably about as reliable as a coked up hookers.

SHANKED. Sucker. You shoulda seen THAT one coming.

And thats all it took to get the shock collar off. Lol.

So what happened to the hotel? Did they just...write it off? I mean four people got murdered in there...

And now we’re back on the whale. HOW THE SCREAMING FUCK DID CINDER JUST...

Wow. She just got up after eating that blast. Fucking plot armor.

Merc making the hard calls honestly. Im actually gonna watch all of this now which is nice because I want to know whats happening in the real world. PITY MORE THAN HALF THE EPISODE WAS THIS FUCKING FILLER.

I like how Cinder just...goes quiet the moment she realizes shes lost Mercury. Not that he was USEFUL mind you but if I had to guess she liked being the boss. But now shes...basically back where she started.

So the whale is basically a ship. It has a bridge. Probably Salems throne room.

Man, Oscars literally just RTs punching bag this season isnt he? Literally in this case.

His clothes are still scortched too which I find interesting. The black eyes also staying. Auras not back up then? Aura repair and regen seems...werid half the time. Like RT does what they want with it.

Ah so someone finally says it...but at the same time what exactly does Salem have to fear? If she cant fight the whole world...what could they do? Maybe overwhelming her? It...Im having a hard time putting the “she cant be stopped” with “shes afraid of fighting all of Remnant”.

Somethings missing here. I know it.

The sound of the “door” opening reminds me of the Flood doors in High Charity in Halo 3s Cortana. Fleshy twisting.

Mention from Hazel, but AGAIN...no details. I guess if you nail down how she can do stuff its harder to write?

Glad someone made a comment on the futility of the Hunter academies.

I really hate how Salems giving us creepy mommy shades.

Hmm. So yeah the bridge IS the throne room/command deck. I like how Neo doesnt give a fuck is just casually kneeling.

Ah okay THATS why he grabbed the scroll.

Heh. Interesting. How exactly does this work I wonder.

...Why does Salem have a ring. Has she always had that ring?

Neo looking at the Hound like “oh, I could ride this thing”.

Oh cool the Ace Ops. And they’re arguing, shocker. Sounds like Elm doesnt trust tech either. No shock there. Idiot.

Atlas elite. Yeah, right.

Huh, is this a Manta with landing gear? I guess they do have them...seems kind of silly to have them so high up though. I guess thats what the thing under the door is for, so they can deploy a ramp. Man, I really dont like Atlas’s airship design.

Hare needs some fuckin suppresants.

Annnnddd...here we go, things go straight to hell. I was warned of this. I am going to try and not be mad...but from what Ive heard the incomptence of the military in this particular section is astronomical.

Huh. So...Grimm can be convirted into a rock-punching liquid? Interesting. Has that always been a thing or... Also why the fuck are you jsut standing there in awe, go kill the fucking thing! Fucking Specialists.

...that is all it took to get through Atlas’s shield? THAT?

I also love how no one does anything. Ironwoods like “wait what the fuck”. Come on bro.

And...thats the Atlas navy. Everyone. Two lasers. One of which missed. Remind me again what exactly these things are used to shoot?

Wait, no, that took down part of it, and then the rest is, surprise, hitting the soft rock on the outside.

THERE goes the shield.

Hang on a second, how long have those giant squid things been there?

And...what. The whale just approaches, nothing happens? You’ve got 12 fucking ships there, shoot the fucking thing.

Again, WHY IS NO ONE DOING ANYTHING?

Oh, it just beach-headed. Okay fine, whatever.

Im not really worried.

Lets see how RT makes this WORSE though...

And thats this weeks episode.

#rwby #rwby v8 #spoilers #rwby spoilers

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awkwardly-sitting-in-the-corner · 4 years

Text

Dwalin's life in the modern world.

Chapter 1

The streets of Dale were bustling with people, an autumn breeze blew, just as Dwalin stepped out from his small house straight onto the street.

‘Even at this ungodly hour,people are everywhere’ Dwalin looked around, walking across the road to a small, glass fronted building.

Sticking a hand into the front pocket of his hoodie, he fumbled around, grabbing hold of a set of keys. Unlocking the door, he quickly walked over the alarm system.

“Yeah, yea I hear ya” He quickly punched in the code, all the while angrily whispering to the inanimate object.

He flicked on a set of switches, conveniently placed next to the alarm system, light flooded the room and an annoying up-beat, high tempo song began playing.

Dwalin looked around, taking in the room. ‘My gym, Sons of Fundin.’

Spotlights shone on treadmills, rowing machines, stacks of weights. Everything you could think of was in this room. It was bigger than one would expect from looking at the outside.

Walking further into the room, the stale smell of sweat hit him.

‘I need to clean this, maybe the air-con needs looking at’

Dwalin continued thinking endless thoughts of how to improve his beloved gym, as he made his way to the kitchen.

Walking into the tiny kitchen area, if you could even call it that. He made a beeline for the cupboard. Grabbing his protein shaker and the large tub of protein powder, he began to make his first of three protein shakes.

Looking down at the fitbit on his wrist. ‘Half 6, they open at 7. Plenty of time to clean up before I go’ taking a big chug of his shake, he grabbed a box with 'cleaning' scrawled on the side in red sharpie.

Cracking his neck either side and stretching his arms above his head, he began cleaning the gym.

“Damn, that took too long” Dwalin finally finished. Placing the last spray bottle into the box, he stood back, admiring his work.

“Shit what time is it?” glancing at the time, he grabbed his hoodie he had taken off at some point during his cleaning montage.

“Half 7, it won't be too busy.” Dwalin tried to reassure himself. Running out of the door and down the street.

Dwalin ran the whole length of the street before coming to a dead stop outside a pale pumpkin coloured building with a dark green door. The sign above the door, in elegant writing, said The Shire.

Slowly pushing open the door, Dwalin walked in.

“Hey Mister Dwalin” A cheerful voice called out. Turing, Dwalin saw the familiar long, black haired, young man sitting at one of the tables, next to him, a slightly older man, with blond hair a similar length to the other, waved.

“Kili, Fili, how ya’ doin” Dwalin smiled walking over to them. “How's Thorin been lately?”

“We’ve both been good, uncles been getting on fine as well, how's business at your gym been ?” Fili asked “I see you’ve got some clothing with your logo on. Dori’s was it ?”

“Business has been good, yeah” Dwalin nodded his head as he spoke. “ The clothes are just hoodies at the minute, great logo though isn't it.” Dwalin laughed, pulling his hoodie straight so he could better see the logo of two axes. “And of course ya’ can't, not go to Dori, he’s great with that printer thing.”

Fili nodded his head in agreement. “Ki here just got some new stuff printed himself, show him Kili” Fili elbowed Kili in his side to get his attention.

“Huh… oh yeah look, I love them aren’t the cool Mister Dwalin.” Kili jumped up, flicking his black hair over his shoulder he showed of the sweater.

“Kili’s archery and gun range” Dwalin read out. “I like it, looks very professional now”

“Me and Tauriel have already sold a few” Kili beamed in excitement. “Oh Mister Dwalin, no line at the till, better go quick before it gets busy”

“I will. Fili, tell Thorin I said Hi” Dwalin walked to the till, waving goodbye to the two young men.

Dwalin stopped at the till and browsed through the bars on the counter top.

‘There is alway a nice selection of protein bars here’ Dwalin picked one at random ‘it doesn't really matter which i get, i've had them all’

“Ah Dwalin, good morning, you're a little later today then normal.” Dwalin looked up, a man walked up to the counter from the kitchen. He had golden brown, curly hair. He was wearing green pants, a cream top and a burgundy apron but it somehow all looked right on him.

“Yea sorry Bilbo, I got caught up with some work”

“It’s ok” Bilbo waved him off with a smile. “ I have the couple boxes of bars you asked for, just came this morning”

“That's great, I’ll pay for them along with this, and can I order my usual for lunch”

“Certainly, I already have you down for the food Dwalin. You get the same thing every day, would you not change it up a bit.”

“Muscles, Bilbo, Muscles”

“Alright, staying with the usual salmon, rice, avocado with an egg on the side.”

“Let me go grab the boxes and the receipt, I put it in with my regular food order so don't worry about any extra cost” Bilbo turned and walked back to the kitchen. Stopping before he got to the door he turned back around.

“Oh did you hear”

Dwalin looked at him slightly confused.

“Hear what”

“Dori and Ori have a brother and he’s in town. I would say they will bring him by when they come grab their morning drinks” Bilbo spun back around and carried on into the kitchen.

“A brother?” Dwalin whispered to himself, still confused.

Plonking the boxes on the counter top, Bilbo grinned.

“Interesting, isn’t it. I never knew there was another brother. I’ve known those two for, gosh about 7 years now and not one word about him did they mention.” Shaking his head, Bilbo handed Dwalin the receipt. “I wonder if there was a reason he has never been mentioned. I know I have a few relations I don’t like to talk about.” Bilbo continued “Lobelia Sackville-Baggins” he trailed off in an angry whisper. Glancing over at the cutlery tray.

Dwalin passed over the money ‘ I wonder if there is a reason he hasn’t been mentioned’ he thought, a feeling of suspicion beginning to grow in his mind.

The door to the cafe opened, Dwalin not paying much attention until the people who entered were standing directly behind him.

“ Ahem, Mister Dwalin, Bilbo, I would like to introduce you to my brother, Nori”

‘Speak of the devil, so they say’ Dwalin turned around

“Hello Dori, Ori” Dwalin nodded at them both before turning his head to properly see this mysterious brother. ‘He is closer to Ori in his looks, they have the same reddish brown hair and willowy bodies’.He looked him over, then held out his hand. “ It's nice to meet you Nori, as your brother said, I am Dwalin, I own the gym down the street, two doors down from your brother's shop.”

Nori shook Dwalin's hand, an almost impish grin sliding onto his face.

“Well, Mister Dwalin, a pleasure to meet you. I don’t suppose you would like to let me rent your apartment that Dori told me about would you?” Finally letting go of Dwalin's hand.

Dwalin turned to Dori, eyes narrowed. ‘The fucker, he has two spare rooms himself’

“Mister Dwalin, you see, Nori prefers his own space and so I informed him of a friend who was trying to rent out a one bed apartment above his gym.”

“Did ya now, no other places ya thought of looking at before mine, ya know my apartment is tiny.” Dwalin was still annoyed at the situation, having something like this dumped on him, he just wanted to collect his protein bars in peace.

“ Well you see, that's where we have a slight issue”

Nori decided now was the time to step in and save his brother from Dwalins Glare.

“Mister Dwalin, the slight issue as Dori put it, is that I used all my money from my last job moving from one side of the country to the next. That means for the next few months, while i get my accounts sorted, I shall be working from paycheck to paycheck. Most places won't agree to that. They need three months rent up front, which I cannot do. Do you understand my problem?”

Nori looked at Dwalin expectantly.

Dwalin glanced back at Nori’s brothers, they were both staring at him hopefully. Breathing out a puff of air, Dwalin nodded.

“Thank you Mister Dwalin, I’ll make sure to tell Balin how helpful you have been.”Ori quietly piped up from the back.

“Well come on, get ya drink and i’ll show ya the place.” Dwalin grumbled still entirely happy and feeling he might come to regret his decision.

Standing there munching on a protein bar while Dori ordered a drink, Bilbo caught his eye from behind the counter. Dwalin could see Bilbo the whole situation hilarious, sticking his middle finger up he turned away and walked to the door.

A few minutes later Nori walked up to him.

“I’m ready to go” He grinned

‘Does he ever stop grinning? It’s like he knows something I don’t.’ Dwalin and Nori began walking to Dwalin’s gym. ‘I’m so going to regret this.'

@lathalea

#the hobbit #fanfiction #fanfic #dwalin #nori the dwarf #romance #mystery #Hobbit #my fic #hobbit fic

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classified-bluerose · 5 years

Text

put me back together vi || quentin beck x reader

chapter six: cut me open, take my heart

a/n: chapter title from ‘’when you walk away’’ by 5sos. i may be taking a short break from this while i figure out where to go from here. i don’t have an exact ending in mind- should it be sad, or happy? or somewhere in between? who knows? not i.

warnings: manipulation, mentions of character death, quentin being a lil bitch, sad mcu scenes mentioned, also (almost) changes to the main plot of the mcu lol that i can’t say here w/out spoiling it. hope ya’ll enjoy.

a/n 2: major liberties taken with the timeline in ffh, the chain of events in ffh, and astral projection. (you’ll see).

—

(GIF is not mine)

—

stephen answers the phone on the final ring, just before it cuts to voicemail.

‘’ yes? ‘’

‘’ i need to astral project. ‘’

‘’ or hello, as people used to say, ‘’ the sorceror replies drily.

‘’ i don’t have time for pleasantries. this is urgent. how can i do it on my own? ‘’

on the other end of the phone, strange sighs. ‘’ i suppose warning you against it due to the potential dangers of the act is pointless? ‘’

‘’ yep, ‘’ you respond, popping the p.

‘’ and asking you why you need to astral project? ‘’

‘’ i don’t have time. ‘’

‘’ of course you don’t, ‘’ he mutters under his breath, before releasing a breath and turning serious. ‘’ okay. listen carefully, and follow these instructions exactly as i lay them out. ‘’

within thirty minutes, you’re set up and ready to go. taking some steadying breaths you lay in the rectangle of lit candles and close your eyes. focusing on where you want to go.

how long it takes, you can’t be sure. maybe seconds, maybe minutes, maybe hours. eventually, the familiar floating sensation overwhelms your senses and when you reopen your eyes, you look down at your prone form on the ground. weird, you think, never getting used to it no matter how many times you do it.

right. you haven’t got long. ten minutes or less, any longer and the more difficult it will be for you to return to your physical form. you focus on the image of quentin in your mind; sparkling eyes, razorblade smile, smooth charm, slick hair. green smoke and fishbowl helmet, thick armour, flowing cape.

you drift through the plane and find yourself in a nondescript building, worn down and aging badly. quentin’s voice reaches your ears, loud and irritated.

‘’ what do you mean a drone was damaged? why didn’t you go and get it? ‘’

a man, bespectacled, behind a mass of computers. ‘’ it won’t matter, mr.beck, the loss won’t be noticable. ‘’

‘’ except, ‘’ the man himself, centre stage, through gritted teeth, ‘’ that peter parker has found that drone and will figure out the truth. ‘’

a cold breeze shifts around you; no. no. no.

‘’ when i have to kill that kid, his blood will be on your hands! ‘’

quentin roars, gone is the soft tenderness you experienced only hours ago, here is pure rage. this is a tantrum in a man, a storm of pure emotion.

‘’ kill that kid. ‘’

peter.

fuck.

you close your eyes and focus on getting back to yourself. the fear and panic creates obstacles, when you return, night has fallen outside - to your horror.

‘’ shit. shit. shit! ‘’

—

how many times can i screw up? you think to yourself, as you wait for quentin in your hotel room.

how many more people can i hurt, by not realising things until it’s too late? you close your eyes as a montage of painful memories plays across the screen of your mind.

steve’s secrets, tony, broken and alone in siberia. stephen and peter, the guardians, fading away to dust in front of your eyes. natasha’s hand slipping from yours on vormir; tony with the gauntlet and the stones swallowing him up in an easy gulp.

your hands start to shake. peter. please be okay. peter has to be okay.

‘’ honey? what’s going on? ‘’

you hadn’t even heard him arriving. you don’t look up, too fearful of what you may see in his face. too fearful of what he may see in your own.

he calls your name softly, worry in his tone. angry voices bite inside you. liar. falsehoods. trickster.

his footsteps grow closer and you raise your head, never opening your eyes.

this is where your illusion shatters. this is where his begins.

—

‘’ quentin beck - formerly employed by tony stark, under the illusion technology department. ‘’

quentin’s blood runs cold.

‘’ fired in 2014, due to instability and potential to become a danger to those around him. ‘’

his jaw clenches tight enough to ache. no. no. he will not let tony stark ruin this for him.

‘’ following beck’s departure from stark industries, tony stark unveils a new therapuetic technique, named BARF - binarily augmented retroframing. ‘’

your eyes open to meet his. brutal, unforgiving, a fire of ice blazing. mouth a harsh snarl, a far cry from the usual kind expression he sees.

‘’ listen to me. i can explain. ‘’

you don’t let him.

‘’ so, hang on. let me see if i’ve got this right, ‘’ you start, ‘’ you work for tony for years. you give your blood, sweat, and tears to a project that is more like, say, your baby, than a project. that’s right, yeah? ‘’

quentin tries to steady his breathing. ‘’ please, just - ‘’

‘’ so, tony fires you. right after you’ve made a big break in your work. cites the reason that you’re not stable enough to keep working on this project. you want to weaponise it. tony doesn’t, having shut down manufacturing of weapons years before. so ... what? you spend the next ten years working on this revenge plot? ‘’

you cock your head to the side and narrow your eyes. ‘’ or do you wait until he’s dead? because you know you can’t actually pull this shit off with him around. that he would figure it out in a nanosecond. because you can just about compete with a child? ‘’

he yells your name, reaching his breaking point.

you ignore him but match the volume. ‘’ did i i get it right, mr. beck? have i missed anything out? ‘’

‘’ you don’t understand and now you won’t listen! ‘’

‘’ i have heard enough from you! ‘’ you laugh, rolling like thunder, low and dangerous. you sober up suddenly. ‘’ the only thing i want you to say? where. is. peter. ‘’

quentin falls silent. you can hear your own heartbeat as he refuses to meet your eyes.

‘’ where is he? ‘’ your tone, edged with desperation, grows aggressive, causing quentin to nearly wince away.

‘’ he had to be dealt with. ‘’ (quentin hopes he sounds more confident than he feels.)

you laugh again, no mirth, just sharp edges. ‘’ don’t. don’t you dare- quentin, where is peter? ‘’

he looks at you with sorrow weighing down his handsome features; features that you now want to punch, hard.

‘’ i’m sorry. it wasn’t supposed to go this way. ‘’

like ice water flooding your veins, everything around you freezes. you shake your head, words failing you.

‘’ you can’t have - you can’t - ‘’

quentin holds up his hands and slowly walks up to you. ‘’ i’m so sorry, ‘’ he repeats, and you’d almost believe him, if you could process anything in this moment.

peter. dead?

you let him down - again.

a ragged breath rips its way from your chest, knees buckling.

‘’ please, let me - ‘’

you rear back when quentin comes close enough to touch. ‘’ no. no. don’t. don’t you fucking - don’t you put a hand on me. you liar. liar. cheat. evil, manipulative, lying- ‘’

‘’ now, now, ‘’ quentin chides, almost hurt, ‘’ that’s not very nice. hmm? like i said - it wasn’t supposed to go like this. poor peter, he just - i tried to get him out of the way but he just. kept. interfering. ‘’ quentin chuckles, in a way that says ‘’i mean, what else was i to do? ‘’

you stare, swallowing down tears.

‘’ it’s a shame, ‘’ quentin sighs, ‘’ because i liked the kid. really, i did, ‘’ he insists, searching your face for something that will let him know you believe his words. ‘’ but, casualties happen. ‘’ he says it so matter-of-factly, you can’t even stop yourself.

he’s lying on his back and your knuckles are burning in the blink of an eye; it’s a good thing for quentin that your powers aren’t on full blast, otherwise the blow most likely would have killed him.

as it is, when he sits back up, stunned, his nose is crooked, streaming blood. he winces furiously when he touches two fingers to the swollen appendage, and then tilts his head and clicks his tongue against his teeth.

‘’ i really wish you hadn’t done that. ‘’

you open your mouth to speak - just as the room falls away beneath you. leaving you stranded in a black box. empty. vacant.

‘’ quentin? ‘’ you call out, trying to keep the anger in your voice. ‘’ quentin, don’t. ‘’ the warning comes as more of a plea and you hate that.

‘’ it’s gonna be okay, honey, ‘’ his voices comes from everywhere and no-where at the same time, disorientating as you get to your feet and stumble around the space. ‘’ don’t worry. you’ll see, soon. you’ll understand. ‘’

a low buzzing begins in the distance. your heart hammers against your chest, panic tightening your throat as breathing grows more and more difficult. ‘’ quentin, please- ‘’ you whisper, brokenly, and he almost wants to cut the scene. end the illusion. have you in his arms again, feel you kiss him, touch him, smile at him.

the buzzing grows louder and he watches you spin around and around as you try to make sense of your surroundings.

you don’t understand, not yet - he has to make you understand.

‘’ it’s gonna be okay, honey, ‘’ he promises a second time, sad and hopeless.

a swarm of wasps descend upon you, you shriek and slap them away, more appearing out of thin air. quentin tries to block out your yells of fear and pleas, ‘’ quentin, stop - stop it! please, stop it! ‘’

it’s okay, he whispers to himself, it’s gonna be okay. he draws out a syringe from a pocket on his hip, approaching you quietly.

you punch the air and twist and turn. trying to escape the flurry of buzzing wings swallowing you whole. one of them stings you, a pinch in your neck. dizziness warps your vision, loosens your limbs, throws the world up in the air.

you drift away into nothingness, peter’s face the last thing you see, in your mind.

quentin’s voice the last thing that you hear. whispering in your ear.

‘’ we’ll get through this, honey. don’t worry. i’m gonna keep you safe. ‘’

—

tag list: @djjffkd @kellzogg @bucky4cap45 @tuliptx @evee550 @stargeek727 @hrrykim @angeli-fucking-cat @glitter-rian

#personall~#quentin beck x reader #quentin beck imagine #mysterio x reader #mysterio imagine #jake gyllenhaal #spiderman #spiderman ffh #tom holland #peter parker #qb:pbmt

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